


Allegiance

by fullyajar



Series: The Princess Rover Chronicles [1]
Category: The Shannara Chronicles (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-04
Updated: 2016-02-04
Packaged: 2018-05-17 04:58:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5855065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fullyajar/pseuds/fullyajar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Amberle and Eretria get separated from the rest while fleeing the demon at the fort. They quickly find out the demon wasn’t the only thing still hunting them. With an unknown horror on their heels, Wil nowhere to be found, and time a luxury, they’re left running and fighting for their lives – and, as they realize the extent of their forced allegiance, for each other’s.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So. 19K words in a weekend. New record, I think, despite the 3 days of proofreading/rewriting. I don't even ship them, honestly (correction: I _didn't_ , before I wrote this). But I do love their dynamic. Kiss or kill. Knife to cut each other's throat or the sexual tension between them. Sarcastic asshole with a dark past and the kind girl who may just melt her heart. Good stufffff. Hope this is up to standards!
> 
> Set immediately after episode 5 (note: written **before** Ep 7, despite the parallels!). Rated M for sexual themes, violence, and blood. Also, brief mentions of child abuse (Cephelo, obviously) and rape (again, Cephelo – die bloody, asshole).

Amberle doesn’t know how long she can keep running. Her thighs ache, each breath burns like breathing fire, and the stitch in her side is a knife twisting every time her heels thud against the hard ground. She grips the sword in its scabbard at her side as she runs, sure that, should she stop, there’s nothing behind her but a fight she won’t win. The Ellcrys’s visions flash through her mind as the trees flash by – blood, destruction, death. Things it seems she’s become very good at leaving in her wake.

She pushes the thought and growing exhaustion away and keeps running. She looks sideways, and catches a glimpse of Eretria between the trees, running just as hard for her life. Her dagger is out, and it reflects the failing light as she runs, ready for a fight and looking like she only comes alive in the heat of it.

She’s fast. Agile. She ducks around a tree so efficiently it’s like the tree dodged her instead. Her feet seem to barely touch on the nettle-strewn floor as she flies across it, and Amberle can see she’s earned the title ‘rover’ with more than just a quick knife and ruthless cunning.

Amberle stumbles as a fallen log materializes out of nowhere in the gloom, blocking her path. She clutches her side as the ground rises up to meet her, and cries out as it hits hard.

She shudders, trying to regain any rhythm of breathing as pain shoots through her, and struggles to her knees just as Eretria skids to her own by her side.

“Don’t go soft on me now, Princess,” she quips, dagger still out.

Amberle eyes it apprehensively, but there are much more terrifying things threatening her life than the possibility of another one of Eretria’s betrayals. “What are you doing?” she pants, breathing hard. “Keep running!”

“Not without you.”

Amberle’s eyebrows shoot up.

“Your grandfather won’t pay me a dime if you’re dead,” Eretria says, pulling her roughly to her feet. Her legs feel like they’ll barely hold her, but she stays up, massaging her side and looking skittishly around them. The sun has almost set, and the forest is painted the drab, uniform grey of twilight that plays with her eyes and makes her think every tree branch is a curved horn or sharp sword aimed her way.

“Do you think we lost it?” she asks.

Eretria snorts, looking behind her and hefting her dagger pointedly. “No. Not permanently. Even if Wil succeeded in distracting it, probably sacrificing himself along the way, it won’t stop ‘til it gets you.”

Her stomach drops. “Oh, god, Wil. We have to go back.”

Eretria snorts. “Predictable. Don’t any of you idiots have any sense of self-preservation?”

Rage rises in her throat, burning along with every breath she still takes with excruciating effort. “Wil is – ”

“ – beyond our help,” Eretria snaps with venom. “Let’s worry about ourselves first. We’re no use to anyone dead.”

Amberle swallows thickly and returns the glare, but then nods stiffly. “Which way?”

Eretria looks around, then points west. “There’s a fog rolling in. It might hide our scent and a fire, if we make it that far.”

Amberle nods and straightens, hand on her sword. “Let’s go.”

 

* * *

 

The fire crackles as Eretria rakes a stick through it and sends sparks into the chill air. Amberle strains to listen for other sounds in the forest, but without the luxury of sight to soothe her worries in the dark, every sound – a scuffle in the underbrush, a hoot of an owl, the distant howling of wolves – feels threatening.

“You know the point of making a fire is to sit beside it, right? Get warm? Rest?”

Amberle turns, arms still crossed tightly in front of her as she paces along the edge of darkness. “I can’t rest knowing what’s out there.”

Eretria lets out a long-suffering sigh. “Then can you please stop pacing? You’re driving me crazy.”

She turns again, eyes trained on the darkness around them, begging it to show her what it hides.

“You’re not going to be able to see anything,” Eretria points out. “Side effect of the fire. Unless elves have some super eyesight I don’t know about.”

They don’t. Amberle bites her lip. She can’t see a bloody thing beyond the reach of the fire. Eretria is right. She’s not sure what pisses her off more.

“How are they ever going to find us?” she asks, staring into the night and suppressing a chill.

“They won’t, most likely,” Eretria says.

“How can you say that so calmly?” Amberle replies, turning back. Eretria is sitting by the fire, poking the wood, like she’s at home camp without a care in the world. “We’re all alone. No guards, no Wil, no protection.”

“Don’t worry Princess, I’ll protect you,” Eretria says with a taunting wink.

Amberle scoffs and turns back.

“It’s nothing new to me,” Eretria says. “Plus, chances are dear old dad has flipped his fortunes and gotten pretty Wil gutted by the demon, so I’m good on reuniting with them for the time being.”

Amberle shakes her head. “We have to find him. Wil is too trusting, he’s going to get himself killed by that bastard.”

Eretria snorts. “I say let them fight it out. Congrats to the victor and good riddance either way.”

Amberle scoffs incredulously, looking down at Eretria over her shoulder. “Wow. Your loyalty is a fickle thing.”

“Loyalty for who?” Eretria says, poking the fire with venom. “The man who held me prisoner my whole life and patted himself on the back for his good deed while doing it? Or the boy who turned on me the minute my goals didn’t align with his?” She snorts and looks up, twirling the smoldering stick in her direction thoughtfully. “You know, _you’re_ the only one that’s been upfront about your hate, instead of dragging me through the dirt on my knees to beg forgiveness for breaking trust you never earned.”

“I did drag you through the dirt on your knees, actually,” Amberle points out.

“ _Literally_. Better than metaphorically.”

“Well, I’m glad to be of service,” Amberle says sarcastically.

Eretria laughs, a short, hard sound. She pokes the fire and gestures to the woods. “Go be of service to the fire and find some more firewood if you’re not going to sit anyway.”

Amberle scoffs. “No way. Knowing you, you’ll run off while I’m away and leave me to die.”

Eretria huffs and leans her elbows on her crossed legs. “I know you don’t trust me – it’s liberating, actually, keep it up – but not everything has to be a fight.”

Amberle sniffs haughtily. “You do it.”

Eretria scoffs and leans forward pointedly. “You know what happens to a fire without wood?”

Amberle rolls her eyes. “It dies, obviously.”

“Very good,” Eretria says like speaking to a child. “And do _you_ know how to keep a dying fire alive long enough to _get_ wood?”

Amberle’s stomach drops. She doesn’t.

“I’m guessing that’s a no,” Eretria whispers snidely. “I don’t know about you, but I’m liking the fire. Keeps the beasts at bay. Marsh wolves. Valley cats. Whatever else kind of trouble you attract.”

Amberle bites back the spiteful comments, because Eretria’s not wrong. Attracting trouble – her lover’s deaths, demon assassins, packs of rovers – has sadly become her specialty.

“So, Princess, still going to make a fuss about getting firewood?” Eretria asks like she knows exactly what she’s thinking.

Honestly, her self-satisfied smirk is enough reason to get the hell out of there.

“You better be here when I get back,” Amberle warns, glaring.

“Oh, I’ll be looking forward to your cheerful company,” Eretria returns with a sweet smile dripping with sarcasm. “Now get going.”

Amberle stops her departure short, turning back and jabbing an irritated finger in Eretria’s direction. “You know, just because you saved me back at your camp doesn’t mean you can just boss me around anytime you feel like it.”

“Really? ‘Cause so far it’s working,” Eretria replies without skipping a beat.

Amberle turns sharply back and marches out of camp.

Her mind churns as she searches for firewood, picking up broken sticks and smashing them into her arms with excessive force.

Who does Eretria think she is? It’s nothing but a series of coincidences she’s even still with her – even still breathing, actually. If Allanon hadn’t intervened on behalf of the Ellcrys, she’d still be rotting in Arborlon prison, nothing but a criminal. Rover turned traitor turned reluctant sidekick. For _her_ quest. _Her_ burden. Weren’t sidekicks supposed to _support_ the completion of the quest? Not put it in jeopardy and raise blood pressures with sarcasm and snide comments?

She looks back to the fire, dim in the distance, and grits her teeth.

Eretria is using her, she knows that. She needs her alive to collect what’s essentially a bounty from her grandfather. She betrayed her own father for it. Amberle doesn’t doubt for a second she’d betray her just as quick if something better were to come along.

She’ll push for finding Wil tomorrow. Even if it’ll send them back in the direction of the demon, they’ll be safer together than separated and vulnerable.

Plus, they’ll be safer from each other, because she’s not sure how much longer she’ll be able to refrain from knocking Eretria out and leaving her the hell behind, Ellcrys’ wishes be damned.

She sighs in irritation and bends down for another stick.

The moment she looks back up, the fire in the distance goes out with a speed that can only be deliberate.

Her skin goes cold.

She can’t believe it. Eretria betrayed her – again. She _left_ her. She actually left her.

She drops the bundle of sticks and rushes back towards the last place she saw the fire.

Something knocks her down twenty feet from her destination, and she hits the ground hard.

She breathes in deep, ready to scream, but Eretria clamps a hand over her mouth and leans over her, eyes wide.

“Sssh.”

She stills instantly, eyes just as wide in the darkness, as Eretria looks around them anxiously and slowly lifts her hand from her mouth.

“There’s something hunting us,” she whispers urgently.

Amberle’s blood runs cold.

The darkness looms around them, far more threatening than Amberle ever thought possible, and suddenly every sound _is_ threatening. She stays absolutely frozen, barely daring to breathe, as her ears pick up the distant, measured sound of footsteps on the forest floor. It’s not the booming footsteps of the demon they saw, shaking the ground with each successive step. It sounds almost human – the snap of a twig, the scuffle of boots. Precise steps, but steps made with what seems like no effort at all to stay silent.

There are two reasons she can think of that the intruder doesn’t cover its approach. Either it wants them to hear it, or it’s powerful enough to expect no defeat and doesn’t care either way.

She holds on the former with unexpected hope. “Could it be Wil or your father?” she whispers.

Eretria shakes her head. “No. It circled our camp twice looking for you. If you’d been there, we’d both be dead.”

Despite the way her whole body feels heavy with fear, she slowly gets up to a crouch and draws her sword. “What is it?”

“I don’t know. Something humanoid, I think. Maybe a changeling.”

Amberle’s hand tightens on her sword instantly, visions of her own hand plunging a dagger into Lorin’s chest and memories of Wil aiming a sword at her heart returning unbidden. She shakes her head to clear it – but then she’s hit by a different chilling thought.

She lifts the tip of her sword to Eretria’s throat before the girl can even think to move. Eretria’s eyes widen in shock, and her hand inches toward her dagger. Amberle presses the sword forward, threatening to break skin.

“Prove you’re Eretria.”

“Damn it, Amberle, we don’t have time for this.”

Amberle tightens her grip, readying to push forward, should she need to.

 _It’s not her,_ she tells herself. _It’s not her_.

“Prove it.”

Eretria slaps the sword away with lightning speed, draws her dagger, and knocks her to ground with an efficiency only a rover or a demon could muster. Amberle breathes in sharply as the cold of the blade presses against her neck and Eretria leans down over her.

“I told you –” she hisses, voice low and irritated. “If and when I kill you, it’ll be my choice. It won’t be some changeling stealing my face again.” Her eyes flash, Amberle’s heart shoots into her throat, and she knows instantly who she’s face to face with.

Slowly, Eretria lifts the knife from her throat. “Satisfied?”

Amberle nods tightly, breathing hard.

“Then shut up and follow me.”

Eretria stays low, feet so silent Amberle has to strain her ears to hear any movement at all. She follows her lead as best she can, listening nervously for the footsteps of their enemy.

“Where are we going?” she whispers.

“Back to the fort.”

Amberle’s heart hammers in her throat. “What?” she hisses. “That’s where it probably came from!”

Eretria looks over her shoulder sharply. “I know. It won’t expect that. Outskirts of cities, forts, are always a maze, we can lose it in there. We’re sitting ducks out in the open.”

Amberle aches to turn back and head to Wil’s last known location instead. Like she senses it, Eretria pulls her close by the front of her shirt and whispers, “It’ll know where Wil is. It’ll use him as bait if we let it. We’re on our own, alright? The quicker you accept that, the better our chances will be.”

She’s right. She pushes the ache of losing Wil away, and nods resolutely. “I’m in. I’ll follow.”

“Good. Don’t run,” Eretria warns, tightening her hold. “Stay quiet. Stay low. We can’t survive a fight.”

Amberle nods again. Eretria lets go and starts forward.

She can’t see where Eretria steps, but somehow the girl seems to know exactly where to place her feet. Amberle doubts it would make much of a difference even if she did follow her steps exactly – the girl is so quiet that Amberle ends up grabbing hold of the end of her empty scabbard just to know she’s still there. She does her best, but she snaps twig after twig and rustles branch after branch. She’s just not trained for it. A lifetime of royal comforts do not a ranger make.

Maybe they _should_ fight. She can stand her ground with a sword, despite the way her hands are shaking. But she looks over her shoulder and knows instantly that she won’t stand a chance like this – the night is as black as pitch, and she can’t kill what she can’t see.

She’s never breathed as shallowly for as long, or been as scared. The trek is downhill, mostly, not too tiring, but it’s long, dark, and winding. Obstacles loom out of the oppressive darkness with disconcerting irregularity – branches that mimic a demon’s reaching hands as they scratch across her side; the far-off thud of a loping predator that suddenly sounds completely human; the desperate scuffle of a rodent in the underbrush that stops her heart as effectively as if the demon had stepped out of the gloom. Halfway through her trek, the howl of a wolf – why does it sound so close, is it close? – frightens her so acutely that Eretria reaches behind her and grabs her arm.

“You’re making me twenty times more nervous than necessary,” she hisses.

“I’m sorry,” she says, voice shaking. Her heart kicks against the inside of her chest, bringing back thoughts she just spent minutes suppressing. “It’s just – it’s after _me_ ,” she stammers.

Eretria snorts softly. “I don’t think it’ll be picky when it finds both of us.”

Amberle swallows thickly. “I know, that’s the point.”

Eretria starts, eyebrows rising in surprise. “I didn’t think you cared.”

“About leaving a trail of bodies behind me? What do you think of me?”

Eretria shakes her head. “No, I meant – ”

There’s a sound behind them, and for once, she’s not the only one that jumps – because a shadow shifts in the darkness with precision, deadly confidence, and camouflage beyond any mortal powers.

Eretria jumps to her feet, dagger drawn.

Amberle follows, sword held ready and searching the dark around her fearfully. Eretria steps in front of her, arm coming up in the semblance of a shield. Amberle looks down at it in surprise, but then another shadow shifts, and she starts in terror.

“Show yourself, coward!” she yells, shaking her sword.

“Goddamnit, Princess. How about we not taunt it?” Eretria hisses.

The silence unfurls around them, blanketing the night until not an owl dares to hoot in its midnight perch. Amberle’s eyes and ears strain against the dark and silence feeding each other and growing stronger every second.

“It knows we’re here.” Her sword swings in a half-circle as she looks frantically around. “What’s it waiting for?”

“An easy target,” Eretria suggests – just as something races towards them. Amberle cries in alarm, but she’s too late, and it collides full on with Eretria and sends her sprawling into the darkness.

Amberle freezes as the shadow looms above her, and she looks up at what’s sure to be her end – vaguely humanoid, but as silent and unknowable as the shadows it steals from the darkness around it. Its edges are ragged, broken, and scaled, barely corporeal – an effect only enhanced by the two pinpricks of red light shining where its eyes should be and the dangerous glow haloing the curved assassin’s dagger clutched in its claw.

She knows what she must look like to it.

An easy target.

It raises the dagger and plunges.

Her sword, held in both hands, catches its descent millimeters from her throat. She staggers under the weight of its attack, and the dagger lowers, grazing across her armor and drawing a thin line of fire that she feels on her skin.

It pulls back and attacks again. She parries, barely in time, and feels the force of magic shaking along her arm.

She defends once again nonetheless, sword slashing through the air to meet the magical blade head-on as she hopes against hope that it – and her own hands – won’t shatter under the force of it. She barely stays standing as her hands shake on the sword.

She can’t hold it off. It’s too strong.

The realization hits her at the same time that she steps back, hits a rock behind her, and stumbles to the ground, sword dropping from her hands as she does.

“No,” she begs, scrambling backwards desperately.

The demon steps forward, making a noise like laughter.

“No!” she yells again, louder, as her feet kick at her attacker’s advance.

The demon raises its weapon, ready for the deadly blow, and Amberle can do nothing but wait for it to land.

Then –

“Amberle!” Eretria yells, and her heart soars with hope as the girl rushes forward, slashing her dagger at the demon’s extended arm. It retracts it with lightning speed, but it doesn’t matter, there is hope – Eretria is by her side, blade raised and a fight burning in her eyes.

The demon hesitates, dagger aimed at its last attacker, Eretria, before it swings around to Amberle instead. Eretria steps sideways, framing Amberle’s body with her legs, and throws her sword arm forward. Instantly, the demon’s dagger shoots out, and Amberle knows that Eretria’s attack and parry has missed. The red, horrid light of the dagger dims as it disappears into Eretria’s stomach, and she doubles over with a scream of agony.

“No! Eretria!”

Amberle scrambles through the dark for her sword – and almost misses the way that Eretria raises her own, arm shaking with pain, and slashes it down across the demon’s extended arm.

The screech that follows is deafening, and the demon reels back, severed arm clutched in front of it as it gushes shadows and fills the air with living smoke. It screams again, and flies forward just as Eretria staggers back and falls. Amberle crawls toward her, barely catching her and slowing her descent. The demon’s screams are all around them as it zigzags through the trees, enraged and confused and defeated, until slowly, thankfully it retreats far enough that its screeches fade away.

“Eretria, oh, God.” Amberle cradles her in her arms, hands fluttering uncertainly around the glowing dagger still protruding from her stomach. “What do I do?”

“Shut up,” Eretria answers through clenched teeth, and without warning, grabs the dagger and pulls it hard. Her face contorts in pain and she cries out, a sound that hits hard and nearly makes Amberle cry out with her. Eretria presses her hand to her frayed armor and drops the dagger to the ground with a hollow clank, where it slowly dims, like its work is complete.

“Ow.” She looks down at her fingers; they come back black in the darkness. She throws her head back, staring up into the night sky, before closing her eyes tight. “Damnit,” she murmurs around a groan. “This is just going to ruin my whole day.”

“Why did you do that?!” Amberle demands, voice rising half an octave.

“Just protecting my investment,” Eretria returns with a grim smile that quickly twists into a grimace of pain. Amberle presses her hand over Eretria’s, stomach turning at the way her whole palm is instantly wet with blood.

“It’ll be back,” Eretria says tightly after a moment. “You have to go.”

“ _We_ have to go,” Amberle corrects.

Eretria rolls her eyes, despite the way it seems to cost excruciating effort. “Look, I’m not being self-sacrificial here,” she snaps. “Like you said, it’s after you. Get the hell away from me and I might have a chance.”

“No! Look at you!” she yells, gesturing at the way blood still seeps through Eretria’s fingers despite the pressure she offers. “You’ll die here.”

Eretria smiles wryly. “I’m tougher than I look.”

“I don’t think that’s even possible,” Amberle says.

Eretria smile widens before it’s quickly dampened as she groans in pain again.

It makes up Amberle’s mind. “I’m not leaving you. Get up.”

“You are so infuriating,” Eretria mutters, but she doesn’t resist when Amberle slides her arm under her shoulders and drags her to her feet. She groans in pain and stumbles, but Amberle holds on.

“We need to move.” She sheathes her sword and hefts Eretria’s leaden weight. “Can you walk?”

Eretria grimaces but nods. “If you hold on to me.”

Amberle nods resolutely and looks forward. “I won’t let go.”

 

* * *

 

By the time the first house at the foothills of Fort Drey Wood comes in to view, Amberle’s trousers are wet with blood from where she’s held Eretria’s hip against her as they stumbled through the forest, and every step costs the bleeding girl excruciating effort and agony.

“We’re almost there,” she says, hefting her weight.

They step onto the cobblestones and leave two footprints of blood.

“I can’t wait,” Eretria murmurs, head sagging as she struggles forward.

Amberle leans Eretria against the first house she comes across and slams her fists against the door.

“Hello! We need help! Please!” she yells.

There’s no answer. The windows are dark.

Oh, damn it to hell. These are _her_ subjects, aren’t they? They’ll forgive her.

She slams her weight against the door. It gives on the third try, and she rushes inside – only to instantly retreat, mouth covered. gagging at the smell of death, and desperately trying the banish the image of a family bloodily murmured and mutilated.

“Occupied?” Eretria says with a grimace.

Amberle pushes back tears. “The demon’s been here.”

“Of course it has. Why do you think the whole town’s dark?”

Amberle looks up, realizing it for the first time. The whole street is cast in shadow – not a candle shines in a single window. Her stomach turns.

“Come on,” she says nonetheless, lifting Eretria up again. They stagger through the street, peering into windows and pushing on steadfastly when they find nothing but death. Finally, Amberle notices a boarded up window and door tucked between two dark houses. She sets Eretria down and hacks her way inside with her sword. Thankfully, it looks like it’s been abandoned for quite a while.

“We’re good,” Amberle says, ushering Eretria inside. She leans heavily against a table, breathing fast and clutching her side. “I’ll get a fire going,” Amberle says quickly.

“Do you even know how?” Eretria says bitterly as Amberle bustles around looking for kindling.

“Of course I do, I’m not hopeless,” Amberle snaps, voice tight and sharp with fear. She breathes in to steady herself. Keep it together. She pulls a reasonably clean rag from a drawer and pushes it into Eretria’s hand. “Press down and hold on, alright?”

Eretria bites back the retort, and nods tightly.

The fire takes her too long, she knows that, but god damn it, everyone makes it look so easy. At least, once it’s started, it’s soon steadily burning in the fireplace, bathing the room in warmth and light. She turns back just as Eretria is stripping off the last of her armor, muscles tight and pained as she reaches for the clasp.

“Here,” she says, and rushes forward to help her. Together they lift her armor away. Amberle reaches for her shirt as well, but Eretria bats her away.

“I’m not a child,” she says sullenly.

“I know.”

She slowly reaches forward again, and though she tenses, this time Eretria allows it. She hisses in pain as Amberle lifts her shirt over her head, leaving her bare except for two straps of leather bound in an unfamiliar manner over her chest, and her arm sags to her side, half shielding the left side of her body as blood continues to trickle out of the wound a few inches from her bellybutton.

Amberle bends down, gently wiping it away and examining the damage. She’s no healer, but she can see it doesn’t look good. The edges of the wound are sharp, clean-cut, but dark. The blood that seeps out is nearly black, and the wound is deep. She quickly presses the rag back to the wound, sliding her other hand to Eretria’s back to offer counter-pressure.

“How does it look?” Eretria asks, brows furrowed.

“You’ll live,” she says tightly. “Once it stops bleeding.”

Eretria nods grimly and slides her hand onto hers on the rag, pressing down as well.

Amberle swallows thickly, mind racing. Black blood. Had she seen that before? She can’t remember anything in her meager medical classes about it. But, on the other hand, none of her classes had ever dealt with wounds inflicted by magical daggers.

She pushes the thought away and clears her throat. “Thank you for what you did.”

“Please don’t thank me for that,” Eretria snaps, hissing as Amberle moves the rag. “It’ll only piss me off more, because, if it wasn’t obvious yet, I am _seriously_ regretting that decision.”

Amberle nods, chastised, and focuses on the wound. She doesn’t know what else she expected. Eretria’s best qualities are not bravery and selflessness – no matter how sporadically those traits might seem to manifest in heat of the moment situations.

She shakes the thought off, shifts her hand on Eretria’s back, and presses down harder. Eretria groans and grabs on to her, head sagging.

“How many kinds of demons _are_ there?” Eretria asks through tight teeth. “Is there a manual I can read or something? How the hell do you beat _this_ one?”

Amberle shakes her head forlornly. “I don’t know. A few weeks ago I didn’t even believe they existed. Now I’ve seen a fury, a reaper, a changeling…” A thought hits her. “You didn’t ask me if I was me.”

“What?” Eretria asks, eyes closed and breathing hard through her nose.

“When I thought you were a changeling. You never doubted I was me.”

Eretria snorts, then scowls in pain. “Because I, unlike you, am not an idiot.”

Amberle rolls her eyes. “Eretria…”

“I’d recognize a doppelganger.”

Amberle frowns. “How?”

Eretria cracks a smile and points at her face. “You have this annoying crinkle between your eyebrows that I’m absolutely positive no changeling could mimic.”

Her hand rises to her face just as her brow smoothes. “Gee, thanks,” she says, scoffing.

Eretria’s grin widens. “Anytime.”

Amberle pulls back the rag, peeking at the wound. She swallows thickly. “It’s not stopping.”

Eretria frowns. “What?”

“The bleeding,” she says, watching as the darkened blood continues to exude from the wound with alarming speed. “It’s not stopping.”

Eretria tenses. “It’s only been a little while, give it a moment.”

She catches Eretria’s gaze apprehensively. “Eretria…”

“Give it a moment,” Eretria snaps, voice shaking. She takes the rag from her roughly and presses it back against her stomach.

Amberle nods, acquiescing, and turns around, busying herself with her surroundings. The house is bare and a little dusty, but otherwise clean. The room is small, barely big enough for a couple, but all the better for them. It’s easy to overlook. She climbs the steep stairs and finds a simple room furnished with a bed, a wardrobe, and a side table. She glances back the way she came. She doubts Eretria would be up for climbing the stairs in her state, and with all the blood she’s lost, she needs the fire, whether she’ll admit it or not. She makes up her mind and drags the ragged mattress and blankets down the stairs.

As soon as she enters the room, she knows something is wrong. “Eretria?”

She shivers and shakes on the table, barely holding on to the blood-soaked rag, and a thin sheen of sweat covers her paling skin. “I don’t feel so good.”

Amberle rushes forward. “You’re losing too much blood.”

“It’s not stopping,” she says, gritting her teeth like admitting it is half the pain of it. “You’ll… you’ll have to cauterize it.”

Amberle’s stomach drops. “I don’t – I wouldn’t know how.”

“Stick a dagger in the fire, then stick it in me. It’s not intricate medical science,” Eretria snaps.

Amberle swallows thickly against the bile in her throat, but nods and draws her knife. Her hand shakes as she nears the fire, but she pokes the tip into the coals and turns back.

Her breath hitches when she catches sight of Eretria’s lower back. Her otherwise unblemished skin is crisscrossed with dozens of thin parallel scars that span from her ribs to the edge of her belt. Eretria tenses.

“Amberle…”

“I’m – I’m sorry,” she says quickly, shaking herself. She picks up the blanket and drapes it over Eretria’s bare back. Eretria pulls it around herself, shoulders hunched and jaw tight. Amberle stands nervously by her side, fingernail digging into the table as she waits for the dagger to heat.

She takes a breath. “Can I ask – ”

“Cephelo,” Eretria says instantly.

She drops her chin. “I can’t believe that man is your father,” she says softly after a moment.

Eretria swallows. “He’s not.”

Amberle starts. “What?”

“My parents sold me into slavery when I was a kid. He’s the one that bought me.”

Amberle watches her, frozen, as Eretria’s betrayal and the heartless comments about her father shine suddenly in a completely different light. “Oh.”

Eretria shakes her head angrily. “I don’t need anything that man has to offer me.”

A beat of silence falls as Amberle takes it in. “I get it,” she says finally, nodding, remembering the exchange she watched when she was tied to the tree. “You just needed the money.”

“Screw the money,” Eretria spits, face shining with sweat as she shakes with rage and pain. “I can survive without it. I always have. I wanted freedom.”

Amberle pulls back in surprise, brows furrowing and mind turning. “But… you _had_ it,” she points out. “Why come back and save me?”

Eretria freezes like she’s been caught in a lie. Amberle waits, barely daring to move for fear of breaking the moment and sending Eretria fleeing.

“It’s not the first time I’ve had to listen to a girl’s screams in his tent,” Eretria says finally, slowly, like she’s piecing every word together. “There’ve been a dozen. More.” A beat; she scoffs and tilts her head bitterly. “Hell, I’ve been on the other side myself.”

Amberle breathes out sharply. “Eretria…”

Eretria puts up a hand, face contracting with disgust. “I don’t want your sympathy, alright? Just know that he deserved much more than my betrayal when I saved you.”

Her thoughts reel, twisting her heart into unexpected, uncomfortable realizations. “I thought you were doing it for the money.”

“Of course, because that would fit with who you think I am, wouldn’t it?” she says maliciously.

Amberle stays quiet, evaluating, one thought repeating in her mind like the thud of her nervous heart against the inside of her chest: Eretria saved her for _her._ _Twice_.

“I’m sorry,” she says finally. “I was wrong.”

“About _this_ ,” Eretria corrects. “Doesn’t change anything else I did.”

Oh, Amberle doesn’t need reminders about that – the attempted robbery, the ambush, the knife to her throat, seducing Wil _._ She pushes it away and remembers her own screams in the tent and the way Eretria was the only one who came.

“Still,” she says slowly, resolutely. “You have my allegiance.”

Eretria grimaces. “It’s not trust, is it? I’m not good with trust.”

Amberle frowns thoughtfully. “No, it’s not,” she admits. Trust implies expectations, and the way she’d still reach for her dagger if Eretria showed any sign of treachery tells her that she still doesn’t know what to expect with her. “But I – ” She pauses, frown deepening. “Well, I won’t expect the same in return, if that’s what you mean, but I won’t betray you. ”

Eretria holds her gaze apprehensively, like she’s afraid to believe her, before she scoffs and looks away. “Like no one’s ever said that to me before.”

Amberle’s frown smoothes affectionately. “Maybe they have. But I promise it.”

Eretria looks up at her again, and Amberle sees the same skittish, apprehensive look in her eyes, like a creature so perpetually hunted it expects nothing else. Her heart aches with sympathy, and she holds her gaze, offering nothing but the promise. Slowly, Eretria’s brows smooth, and Amberle sees a hint of honest, if uncertain, gratitude.

Amberle smiles at her and lays her hand on her knee, and instantly the moment is gone. Eretria clears her throat, jerks her knee away, and pulls the blanket around her shoulders.

“Okay, can we just get this over with already?” she says gruffly. “The suspense is killing me.”

Amberle nods, dispelling the unexpected emotions and trying to calm her jackrabbit heart at knowing what she has to do. She kneels at the fire. The point of her dagger glows red.

She stands and swallows thickly. “Are you sure about this?”

Eretria snaps her gaze away from the dagger and looks at her incredulously. “Okay, tip: don’t ask something like that if _you’re_ the one doing the cauterizing.”

Amberle clears her throat and nods with commitment. “Right. You’re right. I can do this.”

She puts a hand on Eretria’s shoulder, holding both of them steady, and sights her target. Her hand shakes like a leaf, and the red tip of the dagger skitters dangerously around the gaping wound.

Oh god, what if she misses?

She pushes the thought away, takes a deep breath, and tightens her grip.

“Wait,” Eretria snaps. Amberle relaxes her grip instantly, but her hand clenches in surprise when Eretria grabs the front of her shirt and kisses her. She pulls her in close, and her other hand comes up quickly to the back of her neck and holds her in, but Amberle wouldn’t pull away even if Eretria hadn’t held her captive – she stands stock-still as Eretria kisses her, too shocked to even respond.

Eretria pulls back, shaking, shivering, and looking horribly the worse for wear despite the sly grin on her lips.

“Why did you do that?” Amberle stammers in a rush.

Eretria tilts her head cockily and grimaces in pain. “I’m about to be impaled on a burning hot dagger,” she points out. “Didn’t seem like a half bad idea.”

Amberle’s mouth drops open, eyes narrowing in rage. “ _You_ – ”

“Plus I hope pissing you off means your damn hands will stop shaking,” Eretria hisses, fist tightening on the front of her shirt.

Amberle grits her teeth, the sympathy of the last few moments instantly abandoned, and plunges the dagger forward.

She doesn’t miss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These characters are very fresh, so apologies if their voices didn’t feel fully authentic. I feel like the show needs to flesh them out more for that – I did my best! Please leave a comment if you read! This fandom is tiny, so any love is so much appreciated.


	2. Chapter 2

Despite the fact that it feels like a lifetime ago, Amberle remembers some things from the few lectures on healing she had. A few scattered names of healing herbs. The fact that fevers need to break. Bones need to be set to heal right. Leeching helps bleeding. And people get worse before they get better.

She holds on to that last one with a fervor that surprises her.

Because Eretria is worse. Much worse.

She’d passed out during the cauterization, not even the unexpected kiss apparently enough to keep her holding on to consciousness. Amberle had barely caught her as the blanket slid off her back and she sagged against her, but she’d held on, and, dropping the flesh-smeared knife to the ground, gently carried her to the mattress by the fire. The wound stopped bleeding, and she’d been so relieved – a relief only strengthened when the girl slowly regained consciousness. She’d griped and groaned and criticized the aesthetic quality of the wound, but she was awake – actually cracking jokes (“Stop shaking already, will you? Do you _want_ me to kiss you again?” – she’d found a reason to storm up the stairs at that). They’d settled in for the night, side by side by the fireplace, and Amberle had fallen asleep like a burden had been lifted, like relief was all she needed to finally rest.

It seems surreal, looking back now.

Because the next morning, Eretria hadn’t woken up.

She’d waited a full day and night, watching Eretria grow paler and weaker by the hour, before the need to do something overpowered her.

She pulls her hood over her face, ducks into an alleyway, and looks nervously over her shoulder.

Leaving her behind wouldn’t be a betrayal. She knows that. It’s survival. She never promised anything but allegiance – self-sacrifice goes a step much further, and she knows Eretria wouldn’t even expect it of her. There is no love lost between them. She’s still unconscious; she wouldn’t even know she’d left. She might even stand a chance because of it. Or she’d simply fade away and never be the wiser about the last hours of her life spent dying in a slaughtered town. A week ago, Amberle knew Eretria would have done the exact same thing.

Now, though, she isn’t so sure anymore. And despite the fact that objectively, it isn’t, the idea of leaving Eretria behind suddenly feels much worse than a betrayal.

She turns another corner, mentally extending her map of the town to able to find her way back to her.

She knows what she’s risking with this, with being out. It’s more than her life. The Ellcrys’s seed weighs heavy in its pouch at her belt, and with it the fate of the four kingdoms. But Eretria had risked her life for her _twice_ by now, without any self-interest except preserving a claim to money she doesn’t care for, and Amberle needs to balance the scales.

She looks around her, hand tight on her sword as she searches desperately for an apothecary.

The town is dead. Parts of it have burned to the ground, others still smolder with a fire that will rage for days. She’s glad about that – it hides the smoke from their fireplace.

The streets are deserted, and there shouldn’t be a single noise. But in the last few minutes alone, she’s come across four scavengers, mutts and mongrels, digging into cellars and fighting over scraps of human flesh. Over a dead _child_ , at one point.

Despite the way her stomach turned with righteous ire and the urge to chase them off, she gave them a wide berth. It wouldn’t do to spill fresh blood in a dead town. Not when she knows what’s looking for her.

She jumps as something moves behind her, sword at the ready. A dog growls at her, but retreats, and she sighs in relief. Even the brightness of day isn’t enough to banish memories of two glowing red eyes and a dagger plunging into flesh.

She turns the corner, and her breath catches at the faded sign hanging over a storefront: a pestle and mortar, crisscrossed with sprigs of thyme.

She nearly rushes in, but something stops her, and she flattens back against the wall, honoring the feeling. She swallows thickly, indecisive, and listens carefully, searching for an explanation for the inkling of fear that was suddenly magnified when the apothecary’s shop came in to view.

Not a sound.

She frowns.

Not a _single_ sound.

Her blood runs cold as she realizes why.

The demon would know how dire the wound it inflicted is. It would know she would seek out aid. And it’s waiting for her.

She’s walking straight into a trap – a trap based on saving the life of the girl who the demon saw saved hers.

She breathes out sharply and knocks her head against the wall behind her in defeat and frustration. She’s _so_ close. She can almost read the labels on the wares in the window, teasing her with names of herbs and medicines she needs.

Comfrey, yarrow, peppermint – against sweats and fever.

Willow bark, holy basil – fights pain.

Thyme, ginger, juniper – stops wounds from festering.

She swallows thickly as she remembers Eretria’s shaking, shivering, and groans of pain – she needs every single one. She can’t turn back empty-handed. She can’t lie next to her another night waiting for a miracle. She can’t watch her die – she won’t let yet another person die for her.

She tightens her hand on her sword, swallows hard, and turns back the way she came, every step more determined than the last, as the apothecary’s shop grows further away. If she’s doing this, she’ll be smart about it.

She circles around the building, away from their hideout, giving it a wide berth and always staying within earshot of the howls of scavengers. For once, their noises give comfort. She slips between houses and ducks under broken fences and keeps to the shadows. Eretria hadn’t been wrong – the town at Fort Drey Wood is a maze.

She’s counting on that.

When she has circled around, she listens again. Towards the apothecary, only silence. Towards the rest of the town – the distant bustle of life, moving on, making use of death with a disregard for human dignity that only nature is capable of. She turns that way, searching for the nearest scavenger and the nearest quick escape.

She quickly finds the poor mutt. She should feel guilty, but its muzzle is red with human blood, and she only needs to think of Eretria’s pain for half a second to push any guilt away. She closes in, sword raised, before the mongrel even realizes it’s being stalked. She stabs deep; the dog howls in pain, and Amberle grimaces, but she has no time for anything else.

Silence is falling around her too quickly for it.

She quickly wipes her bloody sword on the dying dog’s fur, and sprints away, retracing the circle as the demon speeds toward the smell of fresh blood.

She knows her time is short – the creature is cunning, and as soon as it finds the dead dog and not _her,_ it’ll know it’s been baited and rush right back to its watch, intent on ripping her to shreds.

But she doesn’t need long.

She runs as fast as she can, circling around so she doesn’t meet the demon halfway. The shop comes into view, and she rushes at it headlong, barely bothering to check if the coast is clear. She doesn’t have time for that – and neither does Eretria.

She dashes into the building, breathless with fear and adrenaline but uniquely focused because of it. The door slams hard behind her. It doesn’t matter. The demon must’ve nearly found the dog by now. It’ll be back in minutes. Her hands flutter over the shelves, shaking as she searches for what she needs and stuffs the pots into her satchel. Comfrey, willow bark, holy basil, thyme – the names roll around in her head, along with Eretria’s.

She’ll save her.

If it’s the last thing she does – she’ll save her.

Suddenly, a piercing scream breaks the silence. Her blood runs cold.

She snatches the last thing she can reach (alcohol: antiseptic, sedative, and if she fails, something to dull her own pain), slaps her satchel closed, and without delay, sprints out the door.

The thud of her feet on the cobblestone and dirt is too loud for her to hear the demon behind her, but she knows she’s being pursued. She can feel it in the way that her footsteps are the _only_ thing she hears – scavengers have made themselves scarce, animalistic fear driving them away. She can see it in the gusts of steam as she breathes out into air that’s twenty degrees cooler than moments ago. The demon knows she’s here, and she’s being hunted.

But, the demon has a form. When it attacked two nights ago, it was something she could touch, feel – something Eretria could and did dismember. And if it has a body that bleeds and causes distress, it has its limits. If it has a body, it can be outfought, outsmarted, and, right now, most importantly – outrun.

She zigzags between houses, drawing the most complex, impossible route she can think of. She has a head start and it gives her some leeway to use the maze to her advantage. She changes direction every few hundred meters, making sure the demon won’t know which part of town is her intended target if it does follow this far. It hadn’t sniffed her out that first night – she’d been no more than fifty meters from the fire, a straight route, but still it had circled twice. It’s not a bloodhound. It may be able to track her as any human might – sound, tracks – but its senses are limited. She’s counting on that as well.

She’s counting on a lot of things, she realizes, but it’s too late to doubt now.

She runs until her breathing burns in her throat and her feet ache. She barely feels it – the treasured prize in her satchel buoys her with hope.

She’s lost it, she’s sure of it. Despite the chill in the air, the demon has lost her trail, or will soon. She’s fast enough. She’s smart enough. Eretria will live.

She turns a corner with sudden hope – and collides head-on with a warm body. Two hands shoot out and catch her arms, squeeze, pull in, and Amberle is struggling before she’s even fully registered the surprised but pleased smirk on the dirty face of the stranger.

“Hey, we got a live one!” the bear of a man calls, and another behind him turns, dropping a heavy sack whose contents clank loudly.

“Oh, oh, oh – the best kind of loot!” the man says gleefully, and Amberle looks him up and down with wide eyes.

Scavengers, of a much different kind.

“Let me go!” she grunts, twisting out of the man’s arms with force and dashing towards the nearest alleyway.

A thin, sharp blade swings in front of her, and she skids to a halt, stopping millimeters from its edge. A third man materializes at the end of it, holding the foil steady and stepping forward from the shadows. She steps back automatically, and two hands twist her arm behind her back.

“Where are you going in such a hurry?” the man holding her asks, turning his face against her cheek. She turns away, jaw tight.

“Stay a while, why don’t you?” the man in front of her says, swirling his dagger. His red beard is twisted into braids.

Not just scavengers – rovers.

Her mind jumps instantly to Eretria. She knows the fate of the four kingdoms rides on her shoulders, but the only fate she cares about right now is that of the girl slowly dying in their sanctuary.

“You need to let me go _right_ now, or we’re all going to die,” she says urgently, cutting right to it. She watches as her breath condenses in the air.

“Dramatic one, huh?” the rover in the corner says with a grin.

She throws her head back with force, aiming at a nose, but the man dodges.

Damn it, she has no time for any of this.

“Search her,” the red-bearded man commands lazily. The goon with the gunnysack of loot complies, barely taking note of her struggling as he pulls open her satchel at her hip – at least, until she manages to swipe her foot up and kicks him hard between his legs. He doubles over, dropping the pot of herbs he’d extracted. It rolls to the leader’s feet.

“Holy basil?” he asks when he picks it up. “Are you hurt, girl?”

She clenches her jaw defiantly. The man behind her chuckles, a low, lewd sound, and pulls her close against him. “I’m sure the three of us can think of something to make you feel better,” he says, twisting his hips pointedly.

God, she is _so_ sick of rovers.

“Let’s see what else she has,” the leader says. “Hold her still. She’s a fighter.”

The red-bearded leader nears, pot of holy basil still clutched in his hand, but Amberle barely sees it. All of her senses are suddenly acutely focused on the fourth pair of footsteps, approaching with speed from the east – from the direction of the apothecary.

It found her.

“Who goes there?” the third man demands, quickly turning the corner towards the sound with his dagger drawn, and disappearing from view.

Amberle takes advantage of the moment’s distraction as both her captor and the leader look east, and kicks out hard, pounding the leader in his stomach and pushing the other man back with the force of it. He crashes against the wall behind him with a groan, and she pulls free.

A guttural death-scream sounds from the alleyway, and she wastes no time: she skids to her knees and quickly scrambles into the dark overhang of a nearby house’s broken foundation.

“What the hell!?” her captor yells, and draws his sword. Amberle watches his feet race across the cobblestones to meet their attacker as the leader does the same.

A pair of different feet come into view – black, ragged, like branches dipped in oil.

One of the men gasps, and Amberle doesn’t even hear the sound of metal on metal indicating a successful parry before his knees sag to the ground and the cobblestones are sprayed with blood. The leader screams with rage and attacks. It’s the last sound he ever makes, because with an efficiency that makes bile rise in her throat, the demon sidesteps and ends it. Amberle clamps a hand over her mouth as the man’s head thuds to the ground and rolls in her direction, stopping inches from her face, eyes glazed and mouth sagging open in the tangle of his blood-stained red beard.

Amberle shakes in the small space as the demon nears, barely daring to breathe. It steps into the puddle of blood gushing from the rover’s severed neck and leaves a bloody footprint as it takes a step closer – halting, evaluating, searching. Searching for _her_. She can see the cracked lines of flesh along hominid feet that make her wonder if this thing was once human – once lived, felt, loved, before it knew only bloodlust and the need to kill.

The demon stops a foot from her hiding place.

It crouches, and Amberle nearly closes her eyes as all the hope she felt for outrunning it, outsmarting it, leaves her. This is the end. It’s found her. Her last memory will be the pain of choking on the edge of a magical blade, and the knowledge that Eretria’s actions were for nothing.

Then – two clawed fingers dip between the cracked, shining shards of the pot of herbs by the leader’s severed head and roll the holy basil between its putrid fingertips.

Amberle’s heart shoots into her throat.

The apothecary’s shop.

The rovers.

Oh god. Could it be…?

The demon rises, dropping the remnants of holy basil to the ground with disgust - holy basil it thinks the rovers stole.

Amberle holds her breath, waiting – hoping.

The demon steps across the corpses littering the street, crushing a rover’s hand unfeelingly as it does, before it races from the scene without a moment’s hesitation. Even before she hears the distant scream of feral rage, Amberle knows the demon has lost her.

 

* * *

 

When she reaches their hideout over an hour later, she’s still out of breath and shaking. She tries to steady herself, breathing hard. She can’t believe her luck. She was stupid to think the demon would lose her trail naturally. Just because it hadn’t found them instantly in the woods, doesn’t mean she should tempt it now. Oh god, what a risk. If hadn’t been for the rovers, she’d be dead. She supposes she should feel some kind of sympathy for them, but she only has to remember the gleeful glint in their eyes at her helplessness and the turn of their hips against her buttocks, and the feeling is instantly banished.

Her hands fumble so much that it takes her three tries to slip the latch – well-secured to keep Eretria safe from predators – but she finally gets inside. She quickly shuts the door behind her, trying not to look at the footprints of blood trailing across the cobblestones straight to their door. It’s not the first time the evidence of their journey comes to mind, torturing her with worry. She’d even considered moving them both, but Eretria grew weaker, and she knew she had no choice but to stay where they were. She’d wondered then how the demon hadn’t found them yet, not thinking yet of her growing need for an apothecary or the fact that the creature might possess patience, cunning.

She wonders it even more now, because despite the rovers, the demon might know she has what she needs. She doubted its senses and tracking before – she won’t again, after what she’s just witnessed. And even if it doesn’t know that she has the medicine, another day of lying in wait in the apothecary’s shop will tell it enough – it will think she let Eretria die. As soon as that happens, there will be no need for a trap anymore. It’ll be actively hunting her again. How long before it finds the trail? How long do they have? How long does Eretria?

As though on cue, the girl groans in pain. Amberle turns and rushes to her side.

She’s paler. Her eyes are shut tight and her skin shines with sweat as she whimpers and shivers beneath the abundant blankets. Amberle lays a hand on her forehead. Still cold. That had started this morning. Yesterday she was so silent that Amberle had done hourly checks to make sure she was still breathing. Today, she’s cold, sweaty, shaking, and Amberle barely knows how to keep her warm.

She doesn’t know which version of illness was worse.

She quickly unpacks her satchel and sets to work soaking ingredients in the meager supply of fresh water she’d set to warm by the fire. A tea would work better, but Eretria can’t drink it unconscious. A poultice will have to do. She kneads the herbs into a leaking paste, spreads it on a clean cloth, and soaks another one in alcohol.

God, she hopes this works.

She gently pulls the blanket off Eretria. She starts and jolts, and Amberle holds her breath.

Open your eyes. Wake up. Give me something.

Eretria just shivers, skin shining with sweat, and turns her face away.

Amberle’s stomach drops, but she shakes it off. Tenderly, she pulls up the shirt she’d managed to pull over Eretria’s torso, and peels the makeshift bandage off, reaching around her to unwind it.

Her breath catches with fear and horror when the wound comes into view. It’s worse than it was yesterday. The blackened edges of the cut have extended to the surrounding area, blemishing the reddened skin with black and purple veins that extend at least five inches in every direction. Her skin is warm to the touch as though every remaining drop of blood rushing to this small area is the reason Eretria is so cold and pale.

Was the dagger poisoned? she wonders not for the first time. Or is this within the norm for infection?

She hopes for the last, but knows that either way, she can do nothing but wait and hope for recovery.

She wipes the alcohol rag over the open wound. Eretria jolts with a guttural cry, and Amberle leans over her, hand on her shoulder to keep her still. She works as quickly as she can to clean the wound, stomach churning when Eretria continues to cry out in her sleep and turn desperately away from her.

“Sshhh, it’s okay,” she says urgently, grimacing as she wipes the poultice on the wound and spreads it thickly. Eretria whimpers, but stills. Amberle quickly wraps a clean rag around her stomach, tying it tight to keep the poultice in place. “It’s okay,” she says again, pulling the blanket higher and wiping a stray, soaked lock of hair from Eretria’s forehead. “I’m done. You’re okay.”

She isn’t. It doesn’t take a genius to see it. The brief minutes without a blanket have turned her lips nearly blue, and her shaking is worse than ever. Amberle glances at the fire, inches away from them. Its heat raises beads of sweat on her own forehead, yet it does nothing against the chill in Eretria. She has no more blankets – she’s searched the whole house already. She looks out the window at the darkening alleyway and the blood-smeared window across the way. She supposes can sneak into the next house over, steal some blankets and food with it (she hasn’t eaten anything since before the attack), but there’s nothing blankets can do if there is no heat to trap. And even with the fire so close, Eretria is ice cold.

She makes up her mind. She shrugs off her armor and weapons, kicks off her boots, strips down to her last layer of clothes, and quickly slides under the blanket. Eretria shivers as the gust of air hits her, but Amberle replaces it with her body. The underside of the blanket is as cold as Eretria’s skin, and she knows she made the right call. She turns Eretria on her side towards the fire, shuffles against her, and wraps an arm around her chest, careful to avoid the wound.

“Now would be a really great if slightly awkward moment to wake up,” she murmurs by Eretria’s ear. The girl doesn’t stir, but her breathing evens, and Amberle watches as her lips slowly regain a hint of their color. She sighs in relief and tightens her arm, offering what comfort she can and taking an equal amount back.

Now there’s nothing left to do but wait.

She closes her eyes, but sleep eludes her for a long time.

 

* * *

 

She wakes up with a start, disoriented by heat and sweat and fear and the turning of day into night. Eretria thrashes and turns in her arms, muscles tight and chest heaving with shallow breaths and aborted groans. Amberle pulls back in concern. She’s kicked the blankets down to below her waist, and her flimsy shirt is soaked with sweat, bringing the arching contours of her body into sharp relief.

“No…” Eretria groans, flailing and pulling at her shirt.

Amberle lays a hand on her forehead.

Oh, God, she’s burning up.

First the cold. Now this. She doesn’t remember what she’s supposed to do. Fever is dangerous, but she knows if Eretria can survive it, heat can drive out infection – and maybe poison. She hesitates, hand on the blanket and eyes on Eretria. Does she need heat or cold?

Eretria plucks at her shirt and kicks at the blanket again, trying desperately to cool down. It makes up her mind. Maybe Eretria knows best herself.

She pulls the blankets off them both and grabs the edge of Eretria’s shirt. Instantly, Eretria goes rigid and lashes out at her, groaning and screaming.

“No, no…”

Amberle’s heart clenches at what must no doubt be a nightmare, but she pulls harder and dodges Eretria’s flailing arms when she finally gets the shirt off.

She grabs the buckle on her belt, fingers shaking. Eretria turns instantly away, shielding the wound and her body. Amberle shakes her head – even in sleep, everything is a fight with her. She quickly straddles her hips to keep her trapped and undoes the belt.

Eretria’s eyes fly open. Amberle’s heart stops in her chest.

“Eretria!” she cries, hand coming up to her cheek and forehead, hoping the fever’s broken. Amberle frowns. She’s still burning up.

Eretria turns away from her hand, eyeing it with confusion and a hint of trepidation. She looks down, and her eyes land on Amberle – as well as her hand still on her belt.

“What are you doing?” she demands, voice raspy and breathing fast.

Amberle frowns, but despite how she knows it must look, she doesn’t move her hand. It’s not what Eretria’s question was aimed at, because something’s wrong – very wrong.

“You have a fever, you need to cool down,” she says carefully.

Eretria looks around her, eyes flitting from one unrecognized corner of the room to the other, and she looks so like a cornered animal that Amberle nearly feels like the predator.

“Where am I?” Eretria demands, jerking sharply away from her. She doubles over in pain. “Oh, it hurts,” she groans, reaching for her wound and pulling at the poultice.

“Stop, you’ll make it worse,” Amberle warns, grabbing her hands. Eretria struggles against her, and only gets more turbulent when she fails to escape.

“No!” she groans, thrashing. “Let me go!”

Amberle pushes Eretria’s wrists above her against the bedding. Eretria’s eyes go wide as Amberle swims into her vision, looming above her, and her face contorts with fear and rage.

“You stabbed me,” she spits. “You _poisoned me_.”

Eretria’s confusion falls into place. Not just fever. Delirium.

“No, Eretria, listen.”

Eretria whimpers in fear, struggling against her hands. “You tried to kill me.”

“No! Please – ”

“Get off of me,” she moans, fighting with all her waning strength. “Don’t touch me!”

Amberle’s stomach turns as her whimpers turn into desperate, confused sobs, but she doesn’t let go.

“Look at me,” she whispers urgently. Eretria turns away, withdrawing from the threat – from _her_ – and gasping in fear.

“Eretria, look at me,” she tries again, voice breaking with sympathy. “Please.”

Slowly, Eretria opens her eyes and holds her gaze, eyes alternating between glassy and vaguely focused as she struggles against the fever.

“Just focus on me,” Amberle says, nodding encouragingly.

“You…” Recognition flashes in her eyes, and she licks her dry, cracked lips. “I – I betrayed you. In the castle.” Her voice breaks with a sob.

Amberle shakes her head, losing hope.

“You put me on trial for murder,” Eretria says, voice rising as she begins to struggle against her again. “You want me dead,” she cries.

Amberle shakes her head miserably. “No. I want you alive. I _need_ you alive.”

Eretria bucks her hips, and Amberle nearly loses her perch. “Get off!” She throws her head back and screams. “Help, someone!”

Amberle shushes her desperately, heart racing. “Please, you don’t know what’s out there!”

“Help!” she sobs, shaking with fear and despair.

It’s no use. All Eretria will remember like this is their mutual betrayals.

The girl breathes in sharply, preparing for another scream, and without giving a thought to what she’s doing, Amberle leans down and kisses her, stopping her short and imbuing the kiss with as much urgency as she can muster.

When she pulls back, Eretria’s chest heaves with shallow, panicked breaths, but she has fallen silent and her eyes are wide.

“Why did you – ”

“I’m hoping pissing you off will make you stop your damn shaking,” Amberle says instantly, holding her gaze.

A pinprick of a memory appears in her eyes.

“Remember?” Amberle urges.

Eretria licks her lips, frowning, but less afraid.

“The dagger.”

Amberle nods. “Yes.”

“The demon.”

She breathes fast, but nods, hoping Eretria’s fear and screaming won’t return. All it will bring is the very thing they’re both terrified of. “Yes.”

Eretria hesitates, trembling. “A kiss.”

Amberle swallows thickly, wondering what version of it Eretria’s foggy mind is remembering, but she nods.

“I’m not trying to hurt you,” she says gently, slowly releasing her wrists. “I’m trying to save you.”

Eretria stays stock-still, taking her in like she’s both terrified she’ll disappear and terrified she’ll stay. “You – promised.” Half remembering. Half begging.

Amberle nods resolutely. Allegiance. She lightly brushes her soaked hair from her face. This time, she doesn’t pull away.

“I promised.”

Eretria hesitates, but then she nods weakly, shivering, and closes her eyes.

Amberle moves slowly as she undresses her. Eretria tenses, and every time she does Amberle is sure the fever is winning and she’ll bolt, but she thankfully allows it. Her skin burns to the touch, but once she’s stripped down, Amberle can see she’s calmer. She wets a strip of cloth, lies down next to her to shield her from the fire, and lays it gently on her forehead.

“I’ll take care of you,” she says. “I won’t betray you,” she adds, much more softly.

Eretria stays silent. Amberle wonders if the fever will let her believe it. If she would let _herself_ believe it even if the fever will.

She pushes the thought away and waits, never taking her eyes off her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still so much to go, but you have time to leave a comment, yes? I’d love to hear what you liked about this chapter?


	3. Chapter 3

The night is rough. Amberle barely sleeps, because Eretria barely does. She shakes herself awake as the fever rages through her body. She cries out in her sleep and her eyes snap open at the sound. Her breathing races like she’s fleeing the demon that chases her into her dreams.

It’s never as dire as the first time. But whether she’s lucid or still delirious, whenever she’s awake, Eretria is afraid. Her eyes are wide as she orients herself in the room, and she never loses that terrifying desperation that makes Amberle fear she’s going to bolt. She curls in on herself and sobs, disoriented and in pain, and Amberle’s heart clenches to move in and comfort her. But a touch, a movement, and instantly Eretria’s eyes snap up and take her in like she can’t decide if Amberle is her savior or her enemy.

Amberle kisses her to bring her back.

The first time was instinct. The second, and every one after that, a choice. Because as soon as their lips touch, Eretria breathes out like she remembers the promise and feels safe. She melts into it, her eyes close, and for a moment, she relaxes enough to fall asleep. Amberle keeps her hand on her cheek and draws soothing circles with her thumb and her other on her hip, bodies close, until sleep conquers her as well.

As the night nears its end, Amberle starts to have hope for the end of the delirium as well, because every time Eretria wakes up, she seems better. It’s still the same, in most ways. Skittish, distrustful eyes shining in the dark. The moment like giving in when she kisses her. The sleep that follows. A routine, repeated to soothe them both.

Except for the last time.

Because the last time, Amberle has barely started to lean in before Eretria sighs and kisses her first, pulling her close and lingering much longer than before. When she finally pulls away, her eyes are closed, her arms are still wrapped around Amberle’s waist, and she falls quickly into a deep sleep that lasts until well into the day.

Amberle still wonders if she was lucid or not. The possibility makes her heart hammer in her throat, as does wondering what she’ll say when she finally wakes up permanently. She almost hopes she doesn’t remember. It would make things much simpler.

She’s up early, despite how exhausted she is. The idea of the demon coming upon them in clear daylight as they both slept through its approach was enough to scare her out of bed. At night, it’s different. An attack feels somehow inevitable. She remembers how hard the demon had been to see in the forest the night it stabbed Eretria. Her heart races at the idea of fighting it again like that, at night, alone. But during the day, when she can be awake and focused and armed, she feels like she could stand a chance.

She glances at Eretria, still asleep. She hopes she can. For both their sakes.

She spends the early morning scrubbing the blood from their clothes and cuddled under the blanket while they dry by the fire, hand tight on her sword, eyes on the door, and feeling horribly (almost stupidly) exposed. But the fire is warm, and just before noon, she’s up and clothed again. She makes a new poultice and changes Eretria’s dressings. The wound looks better. The blackened veins have retreated, and the swelling is down. The comfrey has even started to tentatively stitch the deepest flesh back together. She sighs in relief at the sight, and thanks her lucky stars that her grandfather chose a curriculum that included some teachings on healing.

Her stomach growls for the fourth time that day, and she sighs in irritation. She’ll need to go out and steal food after all. But with the demon hunting the streets, even the few meters to the next door over feels like a risk too great. For her, _and_ for Eretria.

Amberle looks at her. She sleeps like she’s coming back from war. She supposes, in a way, last night _was_ a battle. But she won, because the fever has broken, and for once, her sleep is peaceful.

Maybe she should go – permanently. Eretria will survive this now. If Amberle can lead the demon away, she might stand a chance, even if she’s alone. Like she said, facing the world alone would be nothing new to her. She’d survive.

But the trail of blood leading straight to their door offers too many alternate outcomes to really consider leaving her. She doubts the demon would spare her if it found her here, even if she wasn’t harboring its real target anymore: _her_.

It’s not an option. But neither of them will survive much longer without food.

She tucks Eretria in, straps on her weapons, and climbs the stairs to the third landing. The hinge of a window breaks with a well-aimed kick, and she daintily climbs out of it to the next roof. Within minutes, she’s inside another house, raiding the storage cabinet and filling her satchel with stale bread, potted legumes, jams, salt and more. She even finds a flask of cider.

She makes her way back, more careful on the treacherous eaves with all the extra weight she’s carrying. There’s a small courtyard down below, quite a drop, and she maneuvers her feet delicately before swinging back into the open window and making her way downstairs to the living room.

In a blur and with a groan of pain, Eretria draws her dagger from her belt on the floor and aims it in her direction where she’s framed in the doorway. Amberle freezes, nearly dropping the bottle of cider.

Eretria’s eyes go wide. “Amberle?”

Amberle puts up her hands and laughs awkwardly. “Who were you expecting?”

Eretria blinks, dagger still raised. “You stayed?”

Her heart jumps, whether at the utter shock in Eretria’s voice or the truth that she _did_ , she’s not sure. Despite everything – or maybe because of it – she stayed.

“Of course.”

Eretria swallows thickly. “I thought – when I woke up…” Her dagger slowly lowers and her hand inches toward the newly bandaged wound. “Why did you stay?”

Amberle lays her supplies on the table. “I told you I wouldn’t betray you.”

She looks around her uncertainly. “Yeah, but I thought – ”

“I promised,” Amberle says simply.

A beat.

“You promised.”

Amberle’s not sure if her tone is skeptical or simply surprised.

A moment of silence falls. Eretria’s eyebrows pull together thoughtfully. She gestures to the poultice. “You did this?”

“Yes.”

“And the herbs?”

“I went into town,” she says simply, leaving out the details. She lays out the food in front of her, pours the vegetables into a pan she took, and sets it over the fire, carefully making her way around Eretria. “What do you remember?” she asks after a moment as Eretria continues to frown, trying to piece together the last two days.

“You stabbing me,” she says slowly. Amberle opens her mouth, outraged. “The second time. Good intentions, despite the agony,” Eretria quickly elaborates.

“Oh.” A beat. “Yes. Well.”

Eretria grins lightly before it drops from her face as new memories hit her. She presses her fingers to her forehead.

“Dreams. Really bad ones.”

Amberle nods. She was an intimate witness to the nightmares Eretria’s delirium gave her.

Eretria’s hand comes up absentmindedly to her lips, and Amberle’s heart shoots into her throat even before she asks the question. “Did you kiss me? Or did I dream that? It’s kind of hard to sort out what was real.”

She freezes, hand tightening on the pan.

It would be so easy to lie.

The urge passes quickly, but makes her heart beat no calmer. She shakes her head and stares resolutely into the fire. “It was real. You were delirious, and I didn’t know what to do. Later, it…” She clears her throat. “Well, it seemed to calm you.”

From the corner of her eyes, Amberle sees Eretria crack a sheepish smile. She laughs like she’s not sure what to say and absently adjusts her dressing.

“The demon?”

“It hasn’t found us yet. I don’t know how we got so lucky. There’s a trail of blood leading straight to our doorstep.”

“Then we need to go,” Eretria says, struggling to sit up. She blanches instantly, but grunts and pushes on.

Amberle puts a hand on her shoulder and eases her back down. “Yes, we do, but not in this state. Neither of us has eaten anything in two days, and if your wound starts bleeding again, we’re as dead out there as we’ll be in here when it finds us.”

Eretria breathes out slowly, fighting the pain of sitting up, arms shaking.

“Lay back, please,” Amberle urges.

She scowls but complies, breaths shallow and pained. “Maybe it’s better if – ” She cuts off, cheeks flushing, and looks away.

Amberle frowns. “Better if what?”

Her jaw clenches. “Nothing.”

“Eretria…”

She stares stubbornly at the ceiling, silent as the grave she recently had one foot in. “I can’t…” She breaks off, swallowing thickly. “I don’t think I’m going anywhere,” she says finally, like it gives her great pain to admit it. Her hand tenses on her bandage, and Amberle watches as it shakes with pain and exhaustion again – and something like fear.

Amberle frowns. “I know. We’ll stay another day.”

“No, _I_ will,” Eretria snaps, before taking a steadying breath and staring back up at the ceiling. “You should go.”

“I’ve considered it,” she replies, and Eretria starts with surprise. “But no.”

“But – ”

“I’m not being self-sacrificial here,” she lies, throwing Eretria’s words from two nights ago back at her. “It’s just not tactical.”

Eretria frowns in confusion but stays silent.

“Now, rest. Conserve your strength for when we need it.”

She scowls, but obeys.

Amberle stirs the soup and sets the pan on the bed between them. “Eat,” she commands, and splits the bread.

“You know, just because you saved my life doesn’t mean you get to boss me around anytime you feel like it,” Eretria says with a grumble as she dips her bread in the vegetable soup.

Touché, but two can play that game.

“Really? ‘Cause so far it’s working,” she replies without skipping a beat.

Eretria’s lips quirk with a smile, pleased and relieved. Amberle returns the smile and digs in to the soup.

Though Eretria eats well and every spoonful seems to put more color in her cheeks, it isn’t lost on Amberle how much effort even just resting on her side and reaching for the food is costing her. As soon as she finishes the soup, she lies back down, licking her lips in a gesture of approval to hide the sigh of relief as the pain recedes.

“Good?” Amberle asks, studying the way Eretria’s hands shake on the mattress.

She closes her eyes. “Yes.”

Amberle chuckles and reaches for the bottle of cider. “Drink.”

Eretria looks up at her and grins. “Now that’s a command I’ll gladly follow.”

Amberle laughs lightly as Eretria takes a swig. “Not too much,” she warns. “But it’ll help you sleep in a bit.” She leans over her and lifts the edge of her shirt.

“Uh, do you mind?” Eretria asks, sputtering.

Amberle starts in surprise. “Oh, uhm, sorry.” She snatches her hand back. “It’s just – you’ve been asleep and – ”

“And you took that chance to strip me naked anytime you felt like it?” Eretria demands, lips pressed together with either displeasure or a coy smirk.

I held you nearly naked against me, actually, Amberle thinks. Her cheeks flush red at the thought that suddenly feels a lot less innocent than it was in the moment.

Eretria’s lewd expression – she _was_ smiling, damn it, she’s an idiot – smoothes to surprise as she watches Amberle’s cheeks rise with heat.

Instead of the taunting remark Amberle expects and honestly feels like she might even deserve for her own flustered idiocy, Eretria clears her throat and rises to her elbows with a pained grimace.

“Here,” she says, rolling up her shirt. “Gawk all you want.”

Her eyes fall immediately on the scars curving from her back to her hip. Amberle had traced the lines with her fingers when she held her, more thoughtful than anything. She doesn’t think Eretria would appreciate the knowledge, and she quickly moves on. Her fingers pull back the dressing and she examines the damage.

Her skin, still smeared with poultice, is calmer than even four hours ago, and she nods, relieved.

“I think it was poisoned. The dagger,” she says, sitting back on the bed.

“Yeah, no, shit,” Eretria says with a snort of laughter that makes her grimace with regret. “I could’ve told you that even before I passed out.”

“I wish you had. I would’ve gotten the herbs faster. Maybe the demon wouldn’t have – ” She cuts off quickly, cheeks flushing.

“Maybe the demon wouldn’t have what?” Eretria asks suspiciously.

Wouldn’t have been lying in wait at the apothecary yet. She waves it off. “Nothing. It’ll leave a scar.”

Eretria sniffs, hand absentmindedly sliding to her hip. “I have plenty of those.”

Amberle follows the trek of her fingers over the thin parallel marks.

“They’re cuts,” Eretria says suddenly, before Amberle has the chance to look away.

She looks up in surprise. Eretria’s lips twitch like she regrets her honesty, but she pushes on nonetheless.

“Cephelo is possessive, if me fighting tooth and nail for my freedom doesn’t make that obvious enough. When he has something, he likes the world knowing he had it.”

Amberle ducks her head to hide the way her jaw tightens with rage. His own personal branding. From the look of the various states of definition of the lines, the cuts are months apart, inflicted with intent and precision.

“Would he have done that to me?”

Eretria grimaces, pulling her shirt back down. “Kind of morbid to wonder that, isn’t it?”

“I’m just trying to piece together what else you saved me from.” A beat. “And why.”

Eretria’s hands freeze on her shirt and she looks up sharply. The air feels suddenly so chill that Amberle briefly fears the demon has returned, but it’s just Eretria’s abrupt iciness. She wonders why the hell saving her seems such a sore point for her. No – more than a sore point, she realizes as Eretria’s face goes unreadable and defensive. Something much more loaded than that.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

Amberle tenses in return, hoping she won’t. She doesn’t know the answer. Balancing the scales, yes. But putting her own life at risk for it goes above and beyond the call of honor or allegiance.

Perhaps the reason for the instant mutual tension is that neither of them enjoys the reminder of actions whose reasons they can’t retrace.

“I didn’t promise you anything,” Eretria says quickly, voice hard.

“I don’t expect anything,” Amberle returns, mirroring Eretria’s defensiveness.

“Good,” Eretria says without a moment’s hesitation, “because when I’m stronger, I _am_ leaving. All you do is bring danger.”

“You’ve done your fair share the last few days,” Amberle snaps, remembering the way her feverish screams had threatened to invite the demon to their door.

Eretria’s eyes flash. “By taking a dagger meant for _you_.”

And going far above the call of honor or allegiance as well, Amberle thinks quietly. Especially since, like she says, she promised nothing of the kind.

She sighs in irritation and gets up, dropping the pan on the table and taking a seat on a chair facing the window.

“Sleep,” she commands, looking out the window. It must be some time after four. “I’ll join you when the sun goes down.”

Eretria hesitates, and from the corner of her eyes, Amberle sees her hand tightening on the mattress and the other creeping automatically to her side.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Amberle says, a hint of ire creeping into her voice.

“I wasn’t thinking that,” Eretria snaps – too quickly.

Amberle bites back the snide remark.

“Just sleep,” she finally says when the silence stretches on. “I’ll keep watch.”

She feels Eretria studying her for what feels like an eternity. She stares resolutely out the window and doesn’t turn, but after the girl finally settles back to bed, she wonders for a long time if the look she caught on her face from the corner of her eyes was regret, or something a lot more confusing.

 

* * *

 

She barely makes it to sunset. Her watch is interrupted by repeatedly nearly falling off her chair when her eyes droop closed. She ends up grabbing the cider and a leftover crust of bread just to have something to do with her hands, because her mind offers little distraction. All her thoughts do is wind through possibilities and outcomes and always, annoyingly, bring her back to Eretria.

She remembers the tense conversation, both defending actions they can’t explain and clarifying lines she never thought would blur. The look of indecision before the girl went back to sleep haunts her; something hard and defiant, daring her to leave and simultaneously expecting nothing else. She looks up at the stars and sighs in resignation. She shouldn’t be surprised. This is, after all, who they are, and who they are to each other. She wishes Eretria wouldn’t doubt her, but she still has little right to demand any kind of trust from her. The bedside watch might mean something, but she understands that it isn’t an instant balm for their history. If all wounds could be healed by an herbal compress, a tender touch, and a fever breaking, trust would come much easier between them.

And Eretria’s not the only one of two minds in this. Amberle also doesn’t know where she stands. The last few weeks, the rug has been pulled out from under her so often that she sometimes doubts the world around her even still exists. She must be caught in a dream. A nightmare filled to the brim with chilling betrayals and unexpected turns and insurmountable obstacles. She’s watched Lorin die twice in visions that felt more real than reality. In her dreams, she’s heard Wil warn her away from attachment, and in reality, she’s seen his broken heart as she followed his orders. Everything has changed, and she has no idea what to trust anymore. Her own mind seems to be the only stable factor in everything. She can pinch herself and know she’s real. She knows she means Eretria no harm, but taking the first step and trusting _her_ , trusting anyone at all – maybe it’s a risk she just can’t take right now.

She can reason her way through that part of it just fine. But the thing is, it feels like the careful dance of chicken they’re playing when it comes to trust doesn’t explain everything that’s happened the last few days or even half the strain this afternoon. Not just for herself, but for Eretria as well, because the girl mirrors her skittishness and then defensiveness with a speed that makes her head spin, like she’s not sure what to feel either. She seems one moment likely to take another dagger to the gut for her, and the next ready to give her one herself. The indecisive looks, the unexpected lingering kiss, the quick reversal and doubts… She wishes this unnamed tension had a name, so she could curse the hell out of it.

She sighs, pushes the thoughts away, and takes a liberal drink of cider.

By the time she makes it to bed, she has no doubts that she’ll sleep through the night. Her mind is fuzzy with alcohol and her body heavy with exhaustion as she slides in next to Eretria. Maybe neither of them will even wake if the demon attacks. It’s a strangely soothing thought.

The thought is strong enough to finally let her sleep – the kind of deep, drowning sleep that lingers even when she wakes for an unknown reason halfway through the night. She doesn’t know how long she’s slept. The fire has burned low and the night is deep. She thinks she might have been dreaming – a fever, a kiss, a smile. She looks around her, wondering why she woke.

The answer comes quickly: Eretria whimpers – a sharp, needy sound that pulls Amberle back from the edge of sleep. She takes in her unrest and subdued moans through sleepily hooded eyes. Her skin is warm where her hand has somehow slid to her hip, but it’s not a fever – it looks like a nightmare. She thrashes again, and Amberle slides closer, shaking her gently.

“Hey, wake up,” she mutters, the lingering alcohol and sleep slightly slurring her movements and words.

Eretria’s eyebrows pull together in fear and she mumbles a word, before she cries out sharply and wakes herself up. She looks around her, unsettled and more than a little alarmed.

“Eretria,” Amberle murmurs sleepily, sliding close. Eretria’s eyes flit to hers: wide and restless as she shakes with remnants of the nightmare. The image is painfully familiar, and Amberle leans in and kisses her, the gesture so routine from the night of delirium that she completely forgets that the fever has passed until Eretria lets out a sharp and completely lucid sound of surprise.

She freezes, thumb slowing its soothing motion on her cheek, and pulls back, eyes wide.

Oh crap.

Blood rushes to her cheeks. “I – I’m sorry,” she stammers, too surprised herself to even think to pull back her hand from Eretria’s cheek. “I don’t know what I – I mean, I – I’m sorry.”

Eretria’s wide eyes flick down to her lips, and Amberle stops breathing.

She quickly pulls back her hand.

“Don’t.”

Eretria catches it halfway in its retreat, and Amberle starts in surprise – but then she flicks her eyes back down to Eretria’s lips just as Eretria does the same, a visceral reaction, and they rush in simultaneously for an impassioned, bruising kiss.

Amberle whimpers and slides into Eretria’s arms when they come around her, kissing back like she’s wanted to do nothing else. She slides her hand back to her cheek and her other around Eretria’s waist as the girl does the same, pulling her close and making her lose her breath with the soft collision of their bodies. She groans, a high, unexpected sound, and Eretria takes it as encouragement, kissing her deeper and sliding a leg between hers. Amberle groans again and digs her nails into Eretria’s back, urging her on.

Eretria rolls on top of her, kissing her hard. Amberle doesn’t have space or time to groan again, but god, she hopes Eretria knows that she’s putting as much encouragement into the kiss as she can. The girl slides her tongue between her lips, requesting entrance. Amberle gives it and whimpers when Eretria takes it – takes _her._

God, she must still be asleep – dreaming the way Eretria flicks her tongue against her searching lips, imagining the weight of her body draped over her, creating in her mind the soft groans of desire that Eretria leaves on her lips as she kisses her. Or the demon has killed them both in their sleep and life is the dream they left behind. She doesn’t know if she’d mind, if this is the heaven they get to wake up to together.

Eretria pushes her knee down between her legs like she read her thoughts, and Amberle breaks the kiss with a shuddering sigh of desire.

“Eretria,” she groans, raking her fingers across her bare back as the girl sucks on the skin of her neck. Eretria bucks her hips hard in answer, but then she freezes with a sharp cry. She rests her forehead against her collarbone and breathes fast before shaking herself, threading a hand in Amberle’s hair and kissing her hard again.

Amberle kisses back cautiously, hand fluttering over the edge of the bandage wrapped around Eretria’s stomach and watching for another hint of pain. Eretria doesn’t give it, and soon enough, all Amberle’s fingers seem able to do is pull Eretria closer. Her hips grind up subtly against her as Eretria kisses her passionately from above, and she shuts her eyes tight as the pleasure winds up inside her.

That tension did have a name, but she won’t curse it now, oh no.

She groans a needy _yes_ when Eretria slides a hand under her chemise and kneads her breast. She shudders against the touch and tightens her nails in Eretria’s neck, deepening their kiss as the girl continues touching her, hips grinding down lightly all the while.

Amberle pulls at the complicated knot keeping the leather straps across Eretria’s breasts in place, but thankfully – finally – it comes undone. Eretria breathes in in surprise, a noise that’s repeated with enthusiasm when Amberle palms her breast and rises up to meet her as Eretria bucks down against her.

But then she cries out again. Amberle freezes as her hand shoots instantly down to her side, pressing over the poultice, and she breathes hard to dispel the pain.

“Eretria…” Amberle murmurs, tenderly running her fingers from her hip to her wound and hovering in sympathy.

“I’m fine,” she snaps, and kisses her hard like she’s trying to prove a point. Amberle presses a hand up against her.

“Stop. You’re too weak.”

“I’m not weak,” Eretria snarls, kissing along Amberle’s neck and up to the tip of her pointed ears. Despite her resolve, she instantly loses the rhythm of her breathing and arches up against her.

“I didn’t mean – ” She moans again, but pushes up half-heartedly nonetheless. “Please…”

“Do you want this?” Eretria demands suddenly, pulling back and holding her gaze.

Amberle hesitates – for Eretria’s sake. But the girl’s cheeks are as flushed as her own, her body burns every place they’re touching, and her breathing is just fast and aroused, and there’s no doubt Eretria will push on unless Amberle stops her. Eretria doesn’t want an out – she wants a _go_ , injury be damned to hell.

Amberle swallows and nods quickly. “Yes, I do.”

Eretria grins, a wicked, emblematic smirk that jumpstarts all kinds of dangerous, wanting thoughts in Amberle. “Then shut up,” she says, before she kisses her so fervently that Amberle swears she’s somehow caught the fever she soothed the night before.

She quickly pulls off her chemise – in the interest of cooling that fever, and all – and groans with satisfaction when Eretria leans down and kisses across her bare chest, lips ghosting over her nipple before she takes it in her mouth. Amberle strains up against her, hand digging into her hair and urging her on with a whimper and a knee-jerk buck of her hips. Eretria’s hand skates down across the plane of her stomach and slides between her legs, cupping her gently and pressing down with her full of her hand.

“Oh, God,” Amberle moans, wiping the hair from her face and pressing her head back in the mattress. She doesn’t know how she didn’t recognize this – this wanting, this yearning, this jealousy. She groans again as Eretria kneads her hand, and Amberle knows she wants nothing more than to be undone by her.

She quickly slips her underwear off her hips, guides Eretria’s hand back between her legs, and bites the girl’s lip in a kiss that tells her exactly what she wants. Eretria gives it, and Amberle arches as she slides two fingers inside her, curling at their deepest, and holds.

Amberle mumbles a happy mantra of _yes’s_ that make Eretria’s lips pull up in a smile and make her hand speed up its movement. She pushes in and out of her with dedication, never fumbling the rhythm, so that Amberle knows she’s well on her way to being undone. She digs her hands into Eretria’s hips as she hovers over her, propped up on her elbow and knee and sliding in and out of her like her fingers were made for it.

Oh, she wants this. Good god, she wants to _prolong_ it – prolong this unexpected moment of pleasure in the midst of all the danger, responsibility, fear – a combination that somehow makes every emotion rage all the stronger. She holds herself back, letting Eretria build her up slowly. She doesn’t want it to end. Not when it’s been so long brewing, and she knows exactly what’s on the other side of it. Let this moment last, please, she begs. Hold on to it. Enjoy.

Eretria’s hand suddenly slows, movements turning erratic as she subdues a groan. Amberle’s eyes fly open, barely catching a grimace of pain before she hides it.

“Amberle…” she groans, a pained whimper breaking her voice and her eyes shining with unexpected – and probably unintended – vulnerability. Amberle looks down. There’s a small spot of blood on the dressing, and her breath catches.

“Lay back,” Amberle urges immediately, stopping her hand and lightly pressing on her shoulder.

Eretria resists, jaw tight and eyes hard again, like the idea of relenting any semblance of control over this scares her.

No. Maybe not relenting control.

Trusting her.

Amberle’s heart shoots into her throat.

Alright, she’ll go first.

She lies down on her side next to her instead. A compromise. Perhaps a chance to start trusting each other.

The thought dies quickly as she slides closer against Eretria’s body, kisses up along her neck, and whines encouragingly by her ear.

“Touch me, please,” she says, guiding Eretria’s hand between her legs. “Go slow.”

Eretria’s sighs with something like gratitude, but then it’s quickly covered when she starts moving again – slow but deliberate – and Amberle closes her eyes and moans in desire. The position costs Eretria less effort, and she slides her free arm under Amberle’s neck and pulls her in close for a kiss that feels like it lingers long after it’s ended. Amberle groans softly, her lips inches from Eretria’s, as she meets the movement of Eretria’s fingers thrust for thrust. Amberle curls into her, hooks her leg over her hip to give her better access, and slides her own hand between Eretria’s legs in a split-second decision she doesn’t regret for an instant, because Eretria arches her neck and lets out an unexpected moan of her own.

“Oh, yeah,” she groans.

Amberle slides her fingers deeper, and twirls her thumb where she needs it, and Eretria cries out again. “Oh, please –” She breathes hard, sounding like she’s hardly in control of her own voice. “Oh, please don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” Amberle returns just as breathlessly as she grinds down to meet Eretria’s hand.

They work each other up in tandem. Amberle’s fingers draw tight circles across Eretria’s wet, slippery sex, bringing her to the same level she’s riding. It hits her quickly that Eretria’s already there, the sounds of their lovemaking enough of a turn-on to rush her along at the same speed that Amberle rises. Eretria pushes her fingers deep, and Amberle’s forehead falls hard against her, breathing fast and murmuring encouragement. Eretria bucks her hips across the slick movement of her fingers, taking what she needs, and returns the breathless words.

Amberle hears her name, aborted with a cry of pleasure. It sends her three steps closer to coming, and she returns the cry and presses her fingers harder. Eretria cries out again, and then the movement of her hips turns deliberate and focused and Amberle pushes her fingers inside her, following Eretria’s rhythm as she rides up to her orgasm. She comes undone with a cry of pleasure that shudders on every aftershock and gives Amberle a tempo to follow with the thrusts of her own hips on Eretria’s fingers until she joins the mantra with a breathless moan she feels in every part of her.

She pulls Eretria in, crying out when the girl’s fingers slide deep exactly where she needs them, and she wraps her other arm around her and arches up against her, aching for skin on skin like the night she nearly froze to death in her arms and the night that followed when they both burned.

She realizes with a jolt that the fever has broken – a different fever, but a fever nonetheless.

Perhaps a tender touch _is_ enough to heal some wounds.

They both come down slowly, breathing hard and jolting with aftershocks as both their hands continue slowly exploring each other. Amberle lets her face fall forward, bringing her in close, and murmurs a reverent _oh my god._

Eretria slips her hand out from between her legs and hums in agreement. Fingers still shining with evidence of her arousal, she slides her hand to her hip, pulls her close, and kisses her suddenly.

Amberle pulls back after a moment, surprised, but pleased. Eretria lays back, arm still laced under her neck where Amberle lies on her arm, curled up against her. Eretria’s eyes are closed, lips pulled up in a serene, rare smile, and she breathes out like a knot in her comes undone.

Silence falls, and stretches. Amberle listens to the sound of the crackling fire, soothing her along with the unanticipated warmth caused by more than the flames that she knows will work miracles against fear of any threat outside their sanctuary. For a moment, she forgot her burden. This peace she feels along her pleasure-softened limbs, the peace she sees reflected in Eretria’s tranquil smile – it feels good. Like in this moment, there’s no other place she was ever supposed to be. She didn’t think she’d find that again. Not since she gauntlet, not since Lorin, not since the weight of the world had come crashing on her shoulders.

Her eyebrows pull together with concern and a sudden thought she wishes she could have pushed away: maybe this is the last time she’ll ever have it. Maybe _this_ is the reason the Ellcrys wanted Eretria along on the quest – to offer her a moment’s peace, followed by the inevitable reminder of what lies ahead.

“I thought I was the only one,” Eretria says suddenly, unexpectedly.

It pulls Amberle out of her disconcerting thoughts before they’d had a chance to take hold, but her heart shoots into her throat nonetheless. She stays silent, taking in Eretria’s words, that, for all their scarcity, fill in a wealth of blanks. Refusing the fight to the death and offering her escape the first time she and Wil were captured. Saving her from Cephelo. Jumping to her defense against the demon, with nearly disastrous consequences.

It falls into place with a sharp clarity that feels like it cuts to the bone – or, more precisely, to core of her heart, to make it race like it’s running from danger.

“You know, I was _so_ sure…” Eretria continues, absentmindedly running her fingers over Amberle’s hip. “The moment I realized I was going to pass out, I thought…. This is it, you know? You stabbing a heated dagger into my kidney would be my last memory. Kissing you felt like the best idea I’d ever had. A better last memory.” She laughs lightly.

Amberle shushes her gently, heart hammering in her throat at Eretria’s unanticipated honesty and at the way her thoughts on doubt and the danger of trust return with it. “You don’t have to say anything.”

Eretria shakes her head and smiles, a bittersweet, tender thing strengthened by the way she catches her gaze and holds it in a way that does nothing to stop Amberle’s rabbit heart from jumping high and attempting to flee. “I’m really glad it wasn’t.”

Amberle nods thickly and lets her kiss her, heart never stopping its gallop against the inside of her ribs.

“Sleep,” she murmurs after a moment. “I’ll be here.”

Eretria smiles, hums, and pulls her close against her.

“I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come on, leave a comment, you know you want to. ;)


	4. Chapter 4

Amberle wakes up with her heart racing and her ears straining for the sound of birds, the sound of anything – anything but the decided _lack_ of sound that the demon in her dream left her shaking with. It’s after her. It’s right outside. It’ll kill them both.

She freezes, controlling the tremor in her body, when she feels Eretria’s sleepy arm around her waist, pulling her close and soothing her.

Despite the way she hears the birds – she’s safe, they’re safe, thank god – her heart beats harder. She subdues it as best she can, and carefully slides out from under Eretria’s arm.

She picks up her chemise from by the fireplace, brushing off the bits of tinder, and pulls it over her naked body, careful not to look at Eretria’s sleeping form.

She fails. The round tip of one of the girl’s ears is tinged red, like she’s slept on it too long, and Amberle notices a subtle mark on her collarbone no doubt left by her own lips.

She looks quickly away, and starts to dress.

Eretria stirs behind her, stretching lazily and only twinging slightly when it pulls at the healing wound.

“Good morning,” she murmurs, looking up at her with a smile.

Amberle gives her an uncertain smile in response as she pulls on her boots and ties her belt around her waist. “We need to go,” she says quickly.

Eretria laughs, running a hand through her hair. “There a rush?”

Amberle laughs – a hard, uneasy sound. “I’d say so. Demon hunting us and all.”

“That’s been true for three days,” Eretria points out, rising to her elbows.

Amberle swallows thickly as the full events of those days hit her, but she quickly pushes it away. Don’t think about it. You _can’t_ think about it. “You’re better. You can move.”

Eretria laughs, an uncertain but stubbornly light sound. “Yeah, I think I proved that last night?”

Amberle turns quickly away as her cheeks rise with heat.

“Are you okay?” Eretria asks carefully.

She swallows and answers too quickly. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

She’s not. She only has to look at Eretria to be reminded of the girl’s cries of her name and her own surrender as they pushed each other to the edge, and her heart beats like she’s there again.

She can’t believe she didn’t stop it. She can’t believe she didn’t _want_ to. She was there with her for every moment – lucid, wanting. She can’t begin to fathom what that means.

Or maybe she can. A much scarier thought.

God, what was she thinking? She closes her eyes. She doesn’t learn her lesson. First Wil, now Eretria. She can’t get attached; the Ellcrys had made that abundantly clear. Its seed presses against her thigh in its pouch, reminding her of what is still ahead, as well as what’s behind. The image of Wil’s dying gurgle comes back to her. She blinks, and it’s Eretria instead, throat slashed, eyes hollow, sacrificed for the sake of the connection between them.

She steels her jaw. No. She won’t let that happen.

“Get dressed,” she says emotionlessly. She turns away from Eretria’s hurt frown and quickly uncaps a jar of jam.

“My dressings,” Eretria says slowly, like she’s not sure her own wellbeing is something worth mentioning.

Right. “I’ll change them,” she says quickly, still working on breakfast.

Eretria’s frown deepens.

“You’ll have to look at me to do that,” she points out sharply.

Amberle puts the jam-smeared knife down and does, catching her gaze with something between a challenge and an apology.

She doesn’t find the same in Eretria’s, and her heart beats harder as the girl’s eyebrows pull together with a vulnerable question she hadn’t ever expected to see.

She looks back down hastily.

“Amberle…”

She doesn’t look up, despite the fact that her hands have stopped moving with the knife and bread. “Please get dressed,” she says, voice soft.

Silence falls – and lingers, every moment making the next all the heavier. Then Eretria scoffs, so softly that Amberle thinks she might have imagined it, but without a word, she obeys. Amberle hands her clean dressings, and her stomach turns at her grunt of pain when she changes them herself, but she doesn’t intervene. Soon, the girl is fully clothed again, armor well-secured and only weakly favoring her right side.

“So, what’s your next order, Princess?” Eretria asks, voice venomous.

Something twists inside her sharply. She can’t believe they’re back here – after everything. She doesn’t want to be. And yet – she knows Eretria’s not the one to blame.

She puts the bread down with a heavy sigh. “Eretria – ”

“No,” the girl says hotly, taking a step closer and looking at her like she only sees the lie, the deflection, she was about to say. “No! What the hell?”

“Please,” Amberle says, heart breaking. “Let’s not f–”

“I _asked_ you last night,” Eretria interrupts, shaking. “I asked you if you wanted this.”

“I – ” Her tongue catches on the lie her mind supplies, and refuses to utter it. “I did,” she says instead.

Eretria throws her arms wide. “Then what is this, huh?” Amberle stays silent, eyes downcast, and Eretria puts her palms on the table, begging her gaze. “What is this, Amberle?”

“The demon – ”

Eretria scoffs, pulling back and pointing viciously to the window. “No, the demon’s been out there for days. This is _us._ You dragging me to this town, risking your life for herbs, healing me back to life, _kissing_ me… you don’t get to shut me out now.”

Amberle swallows thickly, but stays silent.

Let it go, she begs. Please, let it go. I can’t do this. Not again – it’s too much. She’d asked for her trust – but now that she thinks she may have it, it suddenly just feels like another burden to bear.

Eretria scoffs, looking her up and down bitterly. “You’re just like Wil,” she says finally, then laughs, a sour, hurtful thing. “No, you know what? You’re worse. At least with him, I knew what to expect. He never made promises he wouldn’t keep.”

Amberle’s breath catches, heart bolting at the comparison, and she looks up, eyes flashing. “That is not fair.”

“Then what, huh?” Eretria asks, laughing incredulously. “Because this…” She gestures between them, laughing again, just as humorlessly, just as lost. “…it sure feels like a betrayal to me. Trust me, I know what it feels like.”

She doesn’t doubt it, but she won’t admit what she’d call it herself. God, things felt much simpler when it was just about saving Eretria's life, not honoring this newfound honesty between them.

She shakes her head. “I’m sorry. I – ”

“Doesn’t what happened last night change anything for you?” Eretria demands suddenly, voice finally breaking.

Amberle’s resolve breaks with it.

“I – I don’t know,” she stammers, voice high and unsure. “No,” she says meekly, automatically. Eretria’s face hardens, looking like she’s not sure what answer she expected, but this one fell woefully short. She turns quickly away, but Amberle stops her. “And yes. God, yes, of course it does.”

Eretria freezes, frowns, and waits.

“I’m sorry,” she says quickly and rushes on when the apology only seems to feed to Eretria’s fire. “I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t this! I told you you had my allegiance, and that hasn’t changed. But… God, Eretria, you have my trust as well. And that terrifies the crap out of me, because there’s a lot more riding on that than just my feelings!”

Eretria’s eyebrows rise up in surprise, like she’s only seeing that part of the picture now, and her brow furrows thoughtfully.

“With everything that’s going on, I don’t know how I can – ”

Suddenly a chill raises every hair on her body, and the silence as she breaks off rings louder than natural.

Eretria’s breath catches, and her hand rushes to her dagger at her side as Amberle does the same. Her breath freezes in the air between them. “We have to go. _Now_.”

Amberle doesn’t need telling twice, and she bounds up the staircase, looking behind her to make sure Eretria can follow. She grimaces in pain, clutching her side, but does.

“This way.” She climbs out of the window, reaching behind her to help Eretria as she grunts in pain. She ushers her ahead, and looks skittishly behind her at the open window. There’s no way the demon would’ve failed to follow the trail straight to their door. It’s there, in the place that felt like sanctuary, the place that gave her a moment’s peace.

She steels her jaw and pushes the thought away. She looks apprehensively over the edge of the eaves at the courtyard, and quickly regrets it.

Don’t look down, don’t look down.

She doesn’t realize she’s said it aloud until she hears Eretria’s voice from in front of her: “I won’t.”

They quickly scale across the next roof over. Amberle never loses sight of Eretria, taking in her precarious steps and hunched shoulders as she shields herself and tries to balance simultaneously. It’s too soon – she knows that if the demon hadn’t appeared, she wouldn’t’ve pushed her this quick, no matter how hard her heart had bolted at staying another night, another moment. She would have relented. She would have stayed. She shouldn’t have pushed her at all.

Eretria looks over the edge of the roof as they cross onto the next one, and her eyes go wide.

“Amberle!”

Amberle looks down, barely catching sight of the demon in the courtyard aiming a glowing red crossbow right at her before Eretria throws her weight forward and knocks them both down. She hears the whoosh of the arrow as it passes inches from her face, but she has no time to dwell on it, because they’re sliding down the field of the roof towards the courtyard, scrambling on the tiles but finding no grip.

Eretria goes over the edge first, and Amberle lunges forward for her hand.

“Eretria!”

Her breath is knocked out of her as she grabs it and the force of her aborted fall grounds her on the edge of the roof. She grunts in pain but holds on, other hand shooting to her wrist as she starts to slip.

“Amberle!” Eretria cries, voice high and scared as she claws for her other hand.

The courtyard stretches three stories below – too far to survive, especially with what’s lurking among the unkempt bushes. The demon steps easily around a moss-eaten boulder, looking up as Amberle looks down.

She catches its eyes, glowing red as the pits of hell.

Oh god.

It knocks another arrow, putting the bolt in place with excessive leisure, like it knows it’s won.

Amberle looks down at Eretria, holding tight to her hand as she dangles over certain death. Her eyes flit back to the demon as it aims. She can’t dodge. Not like this. Not holding on.

“Amberle,” Eretria whimpers, half pain, half begging, like she knows exactly what she’s thinking.

She’s wrong. She knows her heart, and as hard as it bolted with fear about Eretria this morning, it fights for her now.

“I won’t let go,” she grunts, tightening her hand as tears squeeze from her eyes. “I won’t,” she repeats, louder, as Eretria whimpers and closes her eyes, preparing for the end.

Maybe after all they’ve been through, it’s fitting the end is together – hers at the hands of the demon, and Eretria’s, involuntarily, at her own.

The demon chuckles.

Suddenly, Amberle’s eyes land on a ledge of a window below Eretria’s feet, and her heart shoots up with hope.

“Eretria, swing!” she yells urgently. The girl’s eyes go wide, but when Amberle grunts with effort, she goes with the movement and reaches with her foot towards the ledge.

The demon’s chuckle dies down instantly, and it glares down the sight of the crossbow.

Amberle cries out and swings hard. The demon releases the arrow the exact moment she releases Eretria’s hand, and the bolt hisses by her ear just as she rolls out of its way. She pulls back from the ledge, breathing hard and hoping against hope that Eretria reached the ledge. Despite the way all her heart is screaming is Eretria’s name, she doesn’t dare to even look over the edge, and she strains her ears for a sound, an answer.

Another arrow shoots wantonly along the edge of the roof.

Good. Focus on me. Let her get away.

She scrambles quickly over the ridge of the roof to the other side, kicks in a window, and hurries into the house. She meets Eretria in the living room, rushing straight to her as she does the same, and she pulls her close with equal relief.

“Thank god,” she murmurs as Eretria tightens her arms, breathing fast.

“We have to go,” she urges.

Amberle nods. Heartfelt reunions later. They race down the stairs.

The streets are bare, as they’ve been for days, but the silence is stifling in the way they both know all too well. Amberle draws her sword. She realizes Eretria is weaponless, her dagger lost over the edge of the roof. She clutches her side and Amberle sees a new spot of blood.

“It’ll find us,” she says like she read her mind. Her hand comes back red.

“It’ll find us anyway,” Amberle says, grabbing her hand and pulling her forward.

She proves her own words not two seconds later when they turn a corner and find their way blocked. The demon stands silent in the alleyway, ruined door on one side and shadowed wall on the other – shadows it seems to grow from, feed from, until it ripples with power and darkness that make it loom almost twice as tall.

Amberle raises her sword, shaking, and steps back, shielding Eretria behind her. The demon takes a step forward, daring to leave behind the shadows and stepping out fully into the light. Amberle takes it in for the first time – the uneven, swelling shoulders, the face like burned roots, the lean, trained legs crisscrossed with clefts and charred skin that makes it look like it walked up from hell itself. Its right forearm is severed into a stump, and Amberle’s gut twists with satisfaction – well done, Eretria. The glowing crossbow shines it its left hand instead, but as she watches, the curvature of the weapon collapses and morphs and transforms, and within seconds, the demon’s claws grip a deadly longsword more daunting than anything Amberle’s ever seen.

The weapon swivels between Amberle and Eretria, deciding. Its stump of an arm twitches with rage and it lifts the sword, pointing at Eretria and holding, silent as the grave, before slowly turning back to Amberle.

It doesn’t take much to fill in the blanks left by its silence, because Amberle knows, with a fear and certainty that nearly stops her heart, that once she’s dead, the demon will go for vengeance. It’ll turn its sword on Eretria and give her a fate that goes above and beyond executing a simple kill order.

“We have to run,” Eretria whispers behind her, shaking and nearly doubled over at the pain in her side.

Amberle takes another step backwards. The demon pursues.

“You can’t run,” Amberle hisses.

Eretria swallows thickly and squeezes her hand. “But _you_ can.”

Amberle looks at her, catches her pleading gaze, and stops short. After everything – telling her to leave, doubting that she’ll stay, telling her she’s gone as soon as she’s better – this time, Eretria’s _asking_ her to go _._

The answer is as terrifying as it is simple.

“No,” she says, suppressing the tremor in her voice and turning resolutely back to the demon. “I’m staying.”

The demon takes another step forward, chuckling with anticipation of finishing them both, almost as eager for executing its orders as for exacting vengeance.

Amberle’s hand tightens on her sword and Eretria’s hand, and she takes a subtle step in front of her.

She’s not going to let that happen.

She lets go of Eretria’s hand and lunges, throat constricting with a feral cry.

The demon’s sword meets hers mid-swing, sending red sparks into the air.

Amberle retracts and guards, slowly advancing, putting distance between the demon and Eretria. They’ve come out onto a courtyard – a stage for what Amberle knows is her final battle.

She remembers her training. Just like there were no rules against girls running the Gauntlet, the pages in the stables didn’t discriminate in sharing knowledge and skill, and she learned how to wield a sword young. Her interest was art, but her memory is keen – she remembers every movement, every maneuver, and every duel won.

She just hopes her muscle memory will serve her as well.

The demon attacks, sword swinging wide. Amberle catches it overhead and staggers under the supernatural weight.

Magic.

She’s beginning to _hate_ magic.

She pushes up with a savage shout, and quickly throws a counterattack. The demon parries, spinning with what looks like ease, but her sword rings true as it hits the enchanted metal, inches from its intended target.

Amberle pulls back and stabs forward again, sweat shining on her face.

She doesn’t know if they’re evenly matched. The rovers died so suddenly – the fact that she hasn’t gives her hope, gives her something that makes her think that maybe she’ll survive this, that she’ll protect Eretria, the four kingdoms, everything that’s riding on her shoulders.

She works the demon around the square, feet moving fast and arm moving even faster as she lunges, blocks, dodges, and swings. The demon pushes back, every movement precise and exact as its black body writhes and twists under her attack. The air shines with sparks as her sword hits the glowing red metal of its longsword. It’s the same material as the dagger it stabbed Eretria with – the same bloody groove, the same twisted handle, the same black edges… It _is_ the dagger, she realizes. Just as it is the bow. The realization makes every swing hit with a ferocity that almost surprises her, her fury at remembering Eretria’s pain and the urgency of saving her adding strength to her blows.

But she grows tired, and the sword heavy. The demon knocks away her attack like her effort means nothing, and her arms swing wide against the force before she can regain her footing.

She barely blocks another attack, and the demon’s longsword glances over the edge of her blade as she dodges its dangerous descent.

God, it’s fast.

Her arms shake as she parries another blow, and another, and another, as they hit with increasing brutality while her own efforts sag under the weight of exhaustion.

And strong.

She screams again, letting her rage carry her forward in what would in any other case be a killing blow. The demon knocks aside her attack and counters with what Amberle knows would be her end if she had underestimated the creature and not followed up with a parry. She staggers back.

It’s better.

She tightens her failing grip and pulls herself up.

It makes no difference. She looks behind her and catches Eretria’s fearful gaze. She steels her jaw, pushing away the growing fear. She’ll fight to the end.

The demon lunges forward, and she deflects it, but it follows up with another ruthless attack like it knows her heart, knows her hopelessness. She jumps out of the way as the sword swings across her gut. The tip grazes over her armor, drawing a thin line of fire.

The pocket holding the Ellcrys’s seed frays as the ember races over it.

Her breath catches.

“No,” she cries, reaching for it, but the demon throws another attack, and she swings her sword up double-handed as the fabric continues to burn.

She spins out of the way, but the demon pursues with lightning speed, and she blocks the full force of its attack with both hands tight on the grip of her blade.

The tip of the Ellcrys’s seed slides into view as she dodges of out the way again, and her stomach drops.

Her left hand shoots down and catches her treasure just as it begins to fall. The demon takes the moment of weakness and swings hard. Her sword lurches under the weight and the tip hits the hard ground when she falls on her side, deflecting the attack but leaving herself completely vulnerable.

The Ellcrys’s seed tumbles out between her fingers as her extended arm hits the ground, and rolls fast across the cobblestones.

The demon’s eyes shoot down, following its trek as Amberle does the same.

Amberle knows what it sees – the true guarantee for the end of all times.

She scrambles after the rolling seed as the demon completely disregards her and steps forward, focused on the prize with breathless excitement.

Eretria is faster. Her fingers close around the holy kernel, and she stands, facing the creature as it advances.

“No!” Amberle screams, as Eretria’s hand rises overhead, prepared to toss her the seed and let her get away.

The demon raises its sword, and Amberle knows instantly why the Ellcrys warned against falling for Wil, falling for anyone. No matter how objectively the scales of morality may teeter, when it comes down to it, it’s hard to value the fate of the world over the life of a lover.

With a strength she didn’t know she had and a rasping cry that rises straight from her heart, she surges to her feet, swings her sword, and slashes it across the demon’s neck.

The demon slows, sword arm going rigid and blade stuttering to a halt centimeters from Eretria’s cowering form. Amberle watches as the glow of the blade dims, turning a lifeless black, before the metal lights itself on fire, crawls up the demon’s arm, and consumes its headless, slowly falling body in a cloud of smoke. Its severed head follow last, leaving an outline of ash on the cobblestones, until nothing is left of it but the rising smoke being whipped away by the wind.

Amberle breathes hard, frozen in place with her back still arched and sword swung wide at the end of its descent, dumbstruck. The tip of her sword drops to the cobblestones with a dull chime that breaks the oppressive silence.

She killed it.

Her hand loosens, and her sword arm sags.

She actually killed it.

She could cry in relief, but her heart aches for one thing. She looks at Eretria, hand on her side, cradling the Ellcrys’s seed in her other, and breathing hard in fear, and she rushes over without a thought to capture her in her arms and pull her close like she never wants to let go.

“It’s dead. Oh god, it’s dead. We won, we’re safe,” she mutters in a rush.

Eretria shakes her head desperately and pulls her close, burying her face in her shoulder.

“Thank you,” she cries, shaking.

“You were so brave,” Amberle murmurs, holding on.

Eretria laughs, a quivering, rueful sound. “Please don’t say that, you’ll only piss me off.” She pulls back, wiping a tear away with gruff annoyance. “I’m sick of being upstaged by you.”

Amberle pulls back, laughing as well.

Eretria shakes her head, eyes shining. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs, trembling. “I’m so sorry for what I said. I shouldn’t have presumed.” She opens her hand, gently cradling the Ellcrys’s seed and pressing it into her palm. “I know your burden. Don’t let me add to it, alright?”

Amberle swallows thickly but nods.

“You have my… allegiance as well,” Eretria says, pausing a beat midway.

Amberle doesn’t ask her if it’s not trust – she hears the answer in the moment’s hesitation. With what’s ahead of her and how the Ellcrys had made it clear that sentimentality would hold her back from doing what needs to be done, she doesn’t need the burden of someone else’s trust – even someone she’s given her own. And despite the way that she knows that Eretria _does_ trust her, allegiance is a better answer than she could have hoped for – a promise of action for her good, whatever it may be, instead of a promise of feelings or expectations that would only add to her burden.

“Thank you,” she says, and follows up her words with a kiss that feels like it’s been brewing for longer than the night and morning they went without one and that lingers long after they pull apart.

The smile that follows lingers even longer, as does the wave of relief that washes over them both.

“What now?” Eretria asks after a minute.

Amberle’s eyes flit in the direction of their sanctuary, almost tempted to forget what lies ahead and escape while they can. But despite what’s resting on her shoulders, with Eretria by her side – an ally, a friend, and more – the burden suddenly seems a whole lot lighter.

“We find the others. We go on.”

Eretria frowns but nods, and Amberle slips her arm under her shoulders and helps lift her weight as they start forward.

“I’m fine,” Eretria says instantly, her voice indecisive between snappish or simply stubborn.

Amberle smiles and pulls her against her, taking another step. “We will be.”

Though she ducks her head to hide it, Eretria smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> Phew, what a ride! I think this is the fastest I've ever written a story with actual plot! Please let me know what you thought of it! Any comment at all is appreciated! What were your favorite moments? Which parts made your heart melt or made you wanna strangle me for all the angst? I'd love to know! This took me over 25 hours to write, I think - a comment takes a minute. ;) Thanks for reading in any case!
> 
>   **Update as of July 2016: There's a[sequel](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7256128/chapters/16475368)... **


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